


The Black Mummers

by SimoneBlack



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Action & Romance, Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Forbidden Love, Genderbending, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Politics, Power Fantasy, Sexual Tension, Sexuality Crisis, Slow Burn, Twincest, Tywin Lannister's A+ Parenting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:21:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 25,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26585032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SimoneBlack/pseuds/SimoneBlack
Summary: Winter and war have come for Westeros. Amidst all the suffering, there is Brienne of Tarth: political exile, tasked with disguising herself as a man to assassinate Tywin Lannister. All so the Targaryens: Daenerys, Viserys, and the mysterious bastard Jon, can take the Iron Throne.A Jaime x Brienne/Jonerys love story told from four perspectives.Ch #8:Jon enlists the help of a prince.In the throne sat a man leaning casually to the side, with one long leg crossed gracefully over the armrest. “Ser Arthur Dayne. I never imagined I'd lay eyes on you again.” The prince said, words dripping with amusement.This is my thank you letter to the ASOIAF series and the ASOIAF community.
Relationships: Daenerys Targaryen/Viserys Targaryen(arranged marriage), Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth, Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen
Comments: 45
Kudos: 47





	1. Take My Hand

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone and thanks for reading! My plan is to post 2 chapters a week. Big shout outs to Dee for beta-ing this chapter! And big shout outs to [Petticoat OEM](https://petticoatoem.com/) for designing the banner for this fic!
> 
> Check me out on [Tumblr](https://simone-black.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Please leave comments! My love language is words lol

****

**Brienne**

Brienne was twelve years old when she killed her first man. Her little sister, Daenerys, simply told her, "I dreamed a man with a knife is coming tonight." So while Viserys was out with a whore, they waited in their inn room for the intruder. Brienne remembered her tiny muscles feeling like tight coils of rope that night, as she clutched her dagger. Her muscles were much bigger now and coiling just so, as they walked through the market. Brienne wished Dany had dreamed of the man currently following them.  
  
"What do you think he wants us for? The gold or the bounty?" Brienne murmured to Dany. They were bundled from the winter chill in thick fur cloaks, thick breeches and woolen tunics; a luxury for them. It was early morning in the Little Essos market town of Lemonwood in Dorne; but the settlers were well into their day. Fishwives cried about their stinking catch, food peddlers called for attention to their smoking grills, burly men lifted barrels and boxes and children darted around everyone trying to work. Brienne and Dany kept their pace at an easy stroll, slipping past bodies and merchant carts alike.  
  
Dany shrugged subtly, keeping her eyes ahead of her. "Could be one or both or nothing at all. Might be he wants to make peace." Brienne glimpsed Daenerys idly spinning and catching her finger blade in her palm.  
  
Brienne glanced back at the man's shadowy figure. "Might be not." Brienne growled. She'd caught him watching them when they sat down to break their fast. He'd been following them for a mile now.  
  
Daenerys slowed her steps then, wrapped her hand around Brienne's wrist and gently tugged her to a covered merchant's stall selling an assortment of silver goods. The finger blade was tucked quietly between Dany's fingers, but Brienne could still feel it.  
  
Dany picked up a polished silver plate and showed it to Brienne. The way she angled it allowed Brienne to consider the stranger's build and distance away from them.  
  
Dany picked up another item and pretended to admire it. The merchant acknowledged them. "A silver piece, for a silver piece." He plied, beaming at them.  
  
"It's very beautiful." Dany replied, holding the chain up to her neck. The strange man who'd been following them, sidled up beside Brienne.  
  
"Allow me, princess." He said to them, simpering and bowing. He handed a coin over to the merchant.  
  
Brienne's dagger was in her hand, and she pressed it to his thigh discretely. Dany continued admiring the jewelry and trinkets as though nothing was amiss.  
  
"What do you need, mister?" Brienne hissed in a tone as deadly as the blade in her hand.  
  
"I need nothing. It is Illyrio Mopatis who wants to meet you." The man said, rifling through treasures.  
  
"Who?" Brienne growled, pressing the dagger a little deeper into him. One slash and she and Dany would move on placidly as he bled to death.  
  
The man still seemed untroubled. "Illyrio the spice lord, a magistrate of Pentos. He's been tracking you. Wants to help you take the throne."  
  
Daenerys shifted closer. “Step this way.” She urged them, with a nod of her head. She lead the man and Brienne further into the market where the stands offering food were set up. Brienne had no idea what Dany was doing, but she watched the odd man from the corner of her eye.  
  
"Why didn't he come meet us himself?" Daenerys asked him. She stopped at a vegetable stall, picked up a basket and loaded it with cabbages, potatoes and carrots.  
  
"Illyrio is a man of great wealth..." the man smirked at them, "and infamy. He would have you meet him aboard his barge this evening, if you leave from the south dock I can take you there."  
  
Brienne watched Dany squeeze a squash as she considered his words. She asked the man, "What do you call yourself, mister?"  
  
His eyes crinkled with a smile as he looked at them askance. "Izambaro, my princess."  
  
"Then you can buy the rest of our goods, Izambaro." Dany commanded sweetly.  
  
"Spoken like true royalty." He tilted his head in a bow. "You'll find Illyrio more than generous."  
  
They continued on through the market. Dany made him buy every thing she pointed her finger at. Brienne just followed them warily.  
  
|> **The Black Mummers** <|  
  
Even though they moved often, their little family almost always made a point to set up camp away from cities and villages. Brienne and Dany appeared at the mouth of their sea cave, arms laden with goods and supplies.  
  
Their younger brother, Grey Worm, was the first to assist them, pulling the cloth bag away from Brienne's shoulder.  
  
Missandei joined to help. Viserys walked over and took in all they'd brought back; arms folded over his chest. Brienne could tell he'd slept well. There was a healthy flush to his cheeks, he'd dressed in his finest pair of cotton breeches and his silvery hair was pulled back in a neat, low ponytail. “I only gave you a few coins.” He said. “So you either stole all this, or you took extra from our stash.” There was anger in his voice.  
  
Brienne stood up straight, her face reddening. Dany beat her to the punch. “Not so.” She said, bending down to heft a bag of rice.  
  
“Not so?” Viserys repeated, following her as she placed the rice with their other dry foods. “Do I need to remind you that we're supposed to be laying low?”  
  
“A man bought it for us.” Brienne sputtered.  
  
Viserys whirled on her. “ _What man_?”  
  
“He was a messenger of some sort.” Brienne said. “Told us some man named Illyrio wanted to help us.”  
  
“Illyrio Mopatis!?” Viserys bellowed. Brienne nodded.  
  
Dany stood beside Brienne, undoing the ties of her cloak. “Do you know him?” She asked. Missandei and Grey Worm paused with the groceries to listen.  
  
“I've heard of him.” Viserys said thoughtfully. Then he started to pace. "And you're sure his name was Illyrio, right?" Viserys asked again.  
  
"Yes. Its not an easy name to mistake.” Dany said, shrugging her shoulders.  
  
Viserys paused to glare at her.

“...And apparently he's some rich bad man who wants to take us home." Dany finished, uneasy. “He wants us to meet him at the southern docks this evening.”  
  
“Bad man? Well, that's a good first impression.” Missandei quipped. "What else did the bad man tell you about him?" Missandei asked. She was their youngest; a skinny teen with amber skin, golden eyes and coily black hair that bounced when she squatted atop a pile of heavy books.  
  
Dany gave her a sheepish smile and shrug, but Brienne frowned when she told Missandei, "Nothing at all."  
  
"This sounds like a trap." Grey Worm warned, leaning against the wall at the entrance of the cave.  
  
"It can't be for your bounty." Missandei said.  
  
Twenty years was a long time to be running. A long time to be forgotten.  
  
"Brienne, you thought it might be because of the gold." Dany said, turning to look at her.  
  
"How not? It's only been a few weeks and they still think they can find who took it." Brienne answered back, brows furrowed.  
  
They all contemplated that for a moment.  
  
"I don't think its a trap." Daenerys said finally.  
  
Viserys' hand went to the scraggly white hairs at his chin. "I don't think so either." He told them.  
  
"If we were caught for the gold, they'd want to do it out in the open. Humiliate us." said Dany. "Izambaro came to us respectful and did all that we asked."  
  
“That's his name?” Missandei asked.  
  
“Yes.” Daenerys and Brienne answered at the same time.  
  
"We should go." Viserys decided for them.  
  
Brienne looked around at her siblings. Grey Worm was still as stone. Missandei looked pensive. Dany looked contemplative and Viserys looked determined.  
  
Brienne sighed. "Bring your blades. At the first sign of problems we fight our way out."  
  
|< **x** >|  
  
They came to the docks in the late evening, when they knew no sailors would be lingering about. They hitched their horses, tightened their cloaks, and approached the rowboat with the swaying lantern attached. Izambaro was at the end of the pier, waving them over.  
  
"My heart bursts at the sight of you, princess!" Izambaro greeted them and bowed as they approached. "And you must be the King, Viserys!"  
  
Viserys nodded, pleased. Brienne was put off by the man's overly friendly attitude. And he was too loud.  
  
Brienne, Grey Worm and Missandei didn't offer their names, nor did he acknowledge them.  
  
"Come." He beckoned. "Illyrio is waiting for you."  
  
The rowboat he offered was a long, wide masterpiece with padded cushion seats. Winter was starting to make the ocean's rougher, but the rowboat rocked them like infants. Illyrio's barge came into view soon enough, shining so much light like a city on waves. Brienne knew that men who flashed their wealth like this were too dangerous to get robbed. She misliked this more by the second.  
  
When their boat bumped up beside the barge, Brienne had to crane her neck up to see where they'd be coming aboard. It was the largest boat she'd ever seen and it swallowed their fancy rowboat, which had room to seat twenty more.  
  
Calls were shouted and a rope ladder dropped down. Brienne went first, followed by Grey Worm. People came to help her up as she clambered on deck, but she waved them off. The deck of this ship was all polished gleaming wood, metal supports, sparkling lights and spotless glass. Shiphands flitted about, quiet and efficient.  
  
A line of serving women stood beside him and there was no mistaking who Illyrio was. Brienne had never seen a man like him. He was enormous. Wide and round, dripping with jewelry and draped in a set of heavy embroidered silk robes. The lights of the ship enhanced the sheen of his slick yellow hair and forked beard.  
  
He bowed dramatically when Dany and Viserys boarded. "I am deeply honored to be in your presence, my King."  
  
Viserys nodded his approval. Serving women stood before him to offer wine. He took it and drank. Brienne wanted to smack the cup from his hand.  
  
Illyrio turned to Daenerys. "Your beauty is heartbreaking, my Queen!"  
  
Dany laughed. Her voice trembled when she thanked him. Brienne found that odd, as Daenerys was usually more suspicious than she was.  
  
Illyrio gave a "halloo" to Missandei and Grey Worm, and then he was looking up, up, _up_ at Brienne. His lips curled into a smile so wicked, Brienne feared her blush would set her hair on fire.  
  
"And who is this?" Illyrio asked in a tone as silky and sinful as warmed oil. A gold tooth glinted in the corner of his mouth.  
  
Daenerys gestured to the three of them. "That's my sister Brienne. And these are my siblings, Missandei and Grey Worm."  
  
"Your..siblings." Illyrio mouthed, and Brienne thought she heard the hint of a sneer.  
  
"This is a very gracious welcome, Illyrio. What is your plan for us?" Viserys asked, finished with his wine.  
  
Illyrio beckoned them to follow. “Let's get below decks to discuss it.” He had a spring in his step that Brienne had not expected. The stairwell they were led down, was warm and dry, and lined with electric lights.  
  
The hall below was decorated with explicit paintings of women, between finely carved golden doors.  
  
The servant leading Illyrio stopped, opened a set of double doors then moved out the way so he could enter.  
  
It was an immense dining room, wide as the one in their old house in Braavos. A long, heavy, carved table spanned the length of the room, lined with matching cushioned chairs. The table was set with crystal glassware, silver utensils, golden napkin rings. Brienne glimpsed Daenerys looking at the finery with _the eye_. Something of Illyrio's was going to get taken tonight.  
  
The Magistrate took a seat at the head of the table. Brienne sat between Missandei and Grey Worm, while Dany and Viserys sat opposite them. A moment later a line servants stormed in with bottles of wine and dishes piled with steaming food. The last time they'd been served like this was over in Essos, before Willem Darry died. Brienne felt like she was dreaming.  
  
Illyrio feasted them first. A rich dinner of all different kinds of foods. A buttery stew of clams, mussels and scallops. Roasted capons glazed in brown sugar. Flatbread and olives and goat cheese. A salad of greens from the Summer Isles. Illyrio offered each dish to Viserys and Dany before feeding himself.  
  
He offered nothing to Brienne, Grey Worm and Missandei. So they grabbed what they wanted from each tray. Brienne misliked this time wasting and she found herself eyeing Illyrio over each course. When he started comparing Arbor Red with Dornish Red, she grew tired of it. “Illyrio. What are your plans for us?”  
  
He swirled his wine goblet around, staring at her longer than polite. “I've been trying to get ahold of you for some years. But you've always managed to slip away from me.”  
  
“Why?” Brienne pressed him.  
  
“You're being rude, Brienne.” Viserys snapped. He gazed back at the merchant. “He has a plan for us.“ Viserys said confidently.  
  
Brienne looked to Illyrio expectantly. He said, “The Targaryens were very good to Essos migrants like myself over the decades. I gained my wealth on this side of the Narrow Sea. I would return it one hundred-fold by giving you the kingdom.” All of them grew quiet, looking around at each other.

Because of the Targaryens, Daenerys and Viserys' ancestors, every major eastern port in Westeros had its own Little Essos town full of eastern foreigners. Brienne and her group had spent years traveling those towns from Dorne to White Harbour and back again. The usurpers could never keep track of them, and besides, what were a few more Essos looking children running about?  
  
Viserys was the first one to break the silence. “I knew this day would come.” He sighed. “What is your plan to take them?”  
  
Illyrio laid his fat hands on the table. Each finger glittered with a different jewel. “Tywin Lannister grows rich and arrogant off of your birthright. We must destroy the Lannisters from inside King's Landing while you build your army through the Stormlands, Riverlands and Crownlands.”  
  
Cold fear threaded through Brienne. _Tywin Lannister_. She heard the screams all over again. Her dry mouth managed to stammer “That sounds like a lot. How will you manage to do it?”  
  
Illyrio's gaze penetrated her. “ _You_ will manage, I believe.”

Brienne felt her heart stutter. “ _I_ will!?” What did he just say?  
  
“Yes, you.” Illyrio told her. “I've lost a lot of men because of you, Brienne. And you all had a gift for disappearing. Imagine my shock to find that you'd come out of hiding and swindled Tywin Lannister himself.”  
  
Illyrio knew about the gold. Who else might know? Brienne's hand gripped the hilt of her stiletto sword. “What swindle are you imagining?” The time for being sweet was over. Illyrio knew too much.  
  
Illyrio smirked then closed his eyes, shaking his head. “You managed to evade and outsmart Tywin Lannister your entire lives. You did a good job. And you didn't kill anyone this time.”  
  
The only men that Brienne was forced to kill were the ones Dany dreamed were dangerous. “If I killed all your men, how do you know about me?” Brienne asked.  
  
“Oh, one or two got away. Telling me about a big strong girl who was lethal with a sharp object.” _You might find out how lethal_ , Brienne thought. And now Illyrio was stroking his beard and his eyes made Brienne feel like she had no clothes on. “Tywin Lannister is creating a new guard because of your antics. With a disguise you could easily take him out.”  
  
Brienne blinked. She understood the words, but it was taking her a minute to register what they meant for her. “Easy!?” Brienne finally barked in disbelief. If this was a dream she wanted to wake up now. “I'll be dead if I set one foot in King's Landing!” She could hear the blood chugging in her ears.  
  
“Sister.” Viserys said, getting her attention. “Twenty years is a long time to be forgotten but not long enough to forget.”  
  
“I haven't.” Brienne mumbled, and she could hear the rushed panicked foot steps of her servants. The flags bearing the Lion and Crowned Stag waving ominously in the distance. The sword piercing her brother Galladon through the belly and bursting from his back. She inhaled, realizing she hadn't done it in a while.  
  
“What do you mean by a disguise?” Brienne asked. She was a big woman; broad-shouldered, long legged, with limp yellow hair and freckles. There wasn't a disguise on the planet that would make her into a stealthy royal assassin. Missandei and Dany were always the face when they did a job.  
  
Viserys snorted. “You'll be dressed as a man.” He looked her up and down, lips twitching. “Wont be hard..” Brienne reddened in shame and she ran a hand over her face.  
  
Grey Worm's hand grasped her shoulder. “I will go.” He said, glaring at Illyrio.  
  
“No.” Brienne protested sharply.  
  
“ _I'm_ a man.” Grey Worm declared. He was only sixteen.  
  
The fat lord shook his head. “My boy, I've only heard word of the lady. I know nothing of you. And I don't know if you're capable of pulling it off.”  
  
“He doesn't need to be.” Brienne ground out. Then she turned and looked at her little brother. “You're not going.” Grey Worm was tall and strong; deep brown skin from the Summer Isles and handsome for no reason at all. His face hardened like he was going to refuse, but he sagged defeated. He was the last to join their family, and the baby in Brienne's eyes.  
  
“Oh! I've seen this before.” Daenerys piped, snapping her fingers.  
  
“Well, write it down!” Viserys said, immediately at attention. He turned this way and that, looking for paper and pen. He snapped at a serving girl, “Get something for us to write on. Now!”  
  
The servant girl flew and was back in minutes. Then Daenerys was writing, while Viserys hovered over her shoulder.  
  
Illyrio watched them, cheek in palm, fascinated. Brienne misliked it. “She dreams.” Brienne told him as explanation.  
  
Dany's hand was still going when she said, “ _Brienne_. It has to be you.” Her voice went faint and far away.  
  
A chill washed over Brienne. “Why me?” Brienne asked.  
  
Daenerys' pen scratched across the page. The scrawl was jagged and untidy , unlike Dany's usual handwriting. “ _Brienne_.” Her purple eyes were wide, staring sightlessly at the wall behind Brienne. “I saw you wearing a great, golden lion pelt and there was a bloody sword at your feet.”  
  
Dany paused for a second, then wrote. “I saw a golden army, marching in triumph.” She stopped writing, and started spinning the pen like she would her finger knife. Spin and catch. Spin and catch. Still staring at the wall.  
  
“What else?” Viserys pressed.  
  
Daenerys threw down the pen, rotated her wrist and looked up at her older brother. “That's it.”  
  
“When did you dream this?” Viserys asked.  
  
“A few days ago.” Dany answered.  
  
“Why didn't you tell me at once!?” Viserys gnashed, voice tinted with irritation  
  
“I only remembered now.” Dany explained.  
  
Illyrio studied them with narrowed, greedy eyes. The tip of his tongue ran over his upper lip. “Absolutely amazing.” He breathed. “I had plans to hire the Golden Company.”  
  
Viserys let out a long sigh. “Its settled then.”  
  
Brienne's stomach twisted in knots. “Whats settled?” Her voice was stronger than she felt. “You're truly going to go through with this plan?”  
  
“ _Sister_.” Viserys stood and stalked around the table to glare up at her. In that moment she wished she were small. “Illyrio offers you revenge on a silver plate and now you don't want it? Did you forget your family? Did you forget Tarth?”  
  
The screaming was in her ear again.. A woman tearfully pleading for her life. The taste of rain and tears on Brienne's cheeks as she rowed to Dragonstone. She'd lost everything on Tarth when Tywin Lannister came; but she'd gained a sister when Daenerys was born. “What good is my revenge if I'm dead before I can savour it?”  
  
“I would not have harm come to you on such an important mission, Lady. It is most important that our move against Tywin is successful.” Illyrio tried to be soothing, but all Brienne saw was his gold tooth. “I have a man on the inside of the Red Keep who will lead you right to him.”  
  
That didn't make Brienne feel any better.  
  
Daenerys must have seen the doubt on her face because she said. “The sword in my dream did not seem ominous.”  
  
Brienne clung to that shred of hope. Daenerys' dreams always came true. Brienne tried to imagine a great lions pelt around her shoulders. Perhaps she could get her revenge. Perhaps this could lead them home. She looked to Illyrio. “So, what's the plan?”  
  
|< **x** >|  
  
Their group would sleep on the ship that night, much to Brienne and Grey Worm's discomfort. Everyone was given a private, decorated cabin, the size of an inn room. They all were used to sleeping in tents, tucked close, telling stories until they drifted off. So when Illyrio went off 'to get to know King Viserys better', the siblings congregated in Dany's room.  
  
Missandei, was joking about their first party in the Red Keep. “I'm telling you everyone would fit!” She exclaimed, throwing her skinny arms wide. Her head fell back into Dany's lap. “The music, the dancing, the _food_!” She sighed. “It would be historical.”  
  
“We couldn't fit the whole city in at once! They'd have to take turns.” Dany said with laughter in her voice.  
  
Grey Worm lounged in a chair, with his bare feet propped on the bed. A rarity. “I'd hate to see the bathrooms after.” He said, lips lifting.  
  
Missandei stuck her tongue out. “Ugh, see what taking turns gets you?” The three laughed.  
  
Brienne watched them banter from the end of the bed. She wanted to feel as lighthearted as they did. But she kept thinking about how she would see the Red Keep. She would help oust the usurpers. She had to kill Tywin and survive his army.  
  
“Brienne?” Daenerys interrupted her train of thought, head cocked curiously. “What position would you want at the castle?”  
  
“I...” Brienne blinked a few times. They were watching her expectantly.  
  
“Lord of Parties is taken.” Missandei quipped helpfully.  
  
A thought occurred to Brienne. “Daenerys, why didn't you tell us about your dream when it happened?”  
  
Dany bit her lip.. then she sighed. “I couldn't say it in front of Viserys and... _that Illyrio_.” She spat the name out.  
  
If she didn't like Illyrio, why was she going along with this plan, Brienne wondered. “What did you see?” She asked cautiously.  
  
Daenerys was the most beautiful girl Brienne had every seen; silver haired, purple eyed, petite, and clever. But as her younger sister wrung her hands in her lap, Brienne could see the haunt behind Dany's eyes. “I definitely saw you, Brienne. But the rest... I don't know what to make of it. The golden army was being led by a man made of ash. It was like he was searing. Or simmering..”  
  
“Sizzling?” Missandei offered, waggling her eyebrows. They all chuckled.  
  
Dany rolled her eyes. “Smoldering, he was.” She decided. “There was a black shadow flying overhead them, and the land burned everywhere they marched.” She wasn't smiling anymore.  
  
Brienne shared a look with Missandei and Grey Worm. “That sounds scary.”  
  
“Scary yes.” Dany hummed, sounding distant.  
  
“It sounds like danger.” Grey Worm said, grimly. Brienne's shoulders sank and Grey Worm bumped his knee into hers. “Sorry.”  
  
“No problem.” Brienne smiled sadly.  
  
“It wasn't danger.” Dany said, looking at Grey Worm, then Brienne. “The army and the man made of ash stood before me and I was engulfed in flames too.”  
  
Brienne watched Dany warily. “So what do you think it means?”  
  
Daenerys shrugged, hands still playing in her lap. She locked eyes with Brienne. “Your bloody sword was on fire. And the lion pelt you wore was alive.”  
  
The silence that followed made Brienne's bones weak. No wonder Dany was reluctant to share this frightening dream.  
  
“Whatever the dream meant, I know one thing.” Dany finished, eyes glittering. “There will be blood...and fire.”  
  
Their talk shifted to a lighter topic after that, but Brienne thought about the dream long after. She fell into a fitful sleep in her rocking cabin room.


	2. You Thought You Could

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime suffers from an old injury and is given a new role by his father.
> 
> TW: Twincest at the beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy this Jaime chapter! Big shout outs again to Dee for beta-ing the story! Much love to [Petticoat OEM](https://petticoatoem.com/) for the awesome banner for this fic!
> 
> Check me out on [Tumblr](https://simone-black.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Please leave comments! My love language is words lol

****

**Jaime**

His sister was in a busy mood. “Gods, I needed you Jaime.” Cersei whimpered to him. This was their last chance to be alone before they made the journey up North.  
  
They were in their usual, secret bedchamber. Cersei lay back on her elbows on the bed, breasts spilling out of her gown. Her golden hair hung in a curtain around her shoulders. Her skirts were up high around her waist. Her thighs were over Jaime's shoulders.  
  
“Jaime...feel how wet I am.” She wiggled her hips impatiently. Robert was somewhere in the Kingswood, trying to catch the meat for their going away feast. Jaime knelt by the side of the bed, teasing her with his lips. He moved his mouth away from her inner thigh and growled, “I want to take my time with you.”  
  
“Oh yes!” She agreed. He breathed over the golden hair of her sex, nudged his thumb between her lips to open her.  
  
Cersei bit her lip. “Jaime. Take off that glove. I want to feel you.”  
  
He raised his right hand and glared at his golden glove for just a moment, then caught the finger of the silk between his teeth. Cersei's thighs were starting to feel heavy. She closed her eyes and turned her head, refusing to look at it. The glove slipped off. Puffy, mottled, burn scars snaked up from his missing fingernails to his elbow. They were a perfect mirror of each other, except his was cracked.  
  
He went back to touching her. Cersei panted, “Yes! Please! Oh!” Her eyes were still closed. He pressed one finger into her and then another. Cersei rocked her hips at the feel of him stretching her open.  
  
Her walls were becoming slicker when she gasped, "I asked my husband for you to be his Hand!” She arched her back.  
  
Jaime's fingers slowed to a stop. “Glad to see we're going to Winterfell, then.”  
  
Cersei huffed, then squeezed her thighs around him. “Jaime, you should try to get along with Robert more.”  
  
“You're joking.” He said flatly, withdrawing his hand from her completely. Her thighs dropped to the bed.  
  
She smirked at him. “You'd essentially be the King. Do you think I want to freeze to death in the North for two months?”  
  
Jaime's hand and lips returned to her. “I'll be keeping you warm.”  
  
“Yes.” Cersei sighed and he felt victorious. He pressed himself inside her again. “You should still speak with father about becoming Hand.” She told him.  
  
Jaime bit his tongue, choosing to ignore her. It was too late for that. And impossible besides.  
  
Cersei seemed to forget about it too, as she laid back and shuddered. It was all he could do to keep from palming himself with his left hand. Seeing the emotions run across her beautiful face; the bliss, the pleasure, the wince of pain.  
  
Cersei moaned and writhed against his palm. “Almost Jaime! Almost!” then her expression changed. Her green eyes snapped open. “Oh! Ouch. Ow! Stop! Stop! Get off of me!” She shrieked.  
  
She pushed him away from her and he stumbled to his feet. “You were hurting me!” She hollered. “Couldn't you feel what you were doing?” She demanded.  
  
He tried to move his burned fingers, observed how they drooped. “No.” He looked at Cersei, her matching green eyes glowed with terror. “I can't feel anything.”  
  
|> **The Black Mummers** <|  
  
“And what about here? Can you feel what I'm doing here?” Grand Maester Pycelle asked as he rolled the spiked pinwheel along Jaime's burned middle, and ring finger. Pycelle's long white beard wanted to stray towards Jaime more than he liked.  
  
“Nothing.” Jaime grumbled. He'd expected the little spikes to make him flinch in pain or irritation. It felt like a shadow flowing around his hand. He was sitting in Pycelle's lavish office. Every space of wall had a shelf filled with strange bottles of different colours. Twenty feet above them, a raven watched them from a beam. Dusty sunlight streamed in from the high windows.  
  
The stooped old wizard Pycelle held Jaime's right hand by the wrist. “I want you to make a fist, as hard as you can.” Jaime tried to curl his fingers into a fist but only his forefinger and thumb obeyed. His last three fingers trembled and relaxed.  
  
“Again.” Pycelle instructed. Feeling agitated, Jaime tried again and his hand disobeyed him again.  
  
Pycelle wandered to his table muttering about making notes.  
  
“Hmm, this is not good.” Pycelle grumbled ponderously as he scribbled on a pad.  
  
Jaime stood up behind him. “What do you mean by 'not good'?” his voice could cut.  
  
The old man said nothing and continued scrawling on the parchment. “Pycelle!” Jaime barked with all of his fury.  
  
Pycelle jumped and juggled his paper and jotter comically. “The numbness is from your burns.” He finally sputtered. “Some new damage from an old injury. I expect the entire arm will go numb at some point.”  
  
Jaime took a deep breath and squeezed his hands into fists. His right was noticeably numb. He'd killed Rossart before approaching the King. Aerys had his own small vial of wildfire that he carried around his neck. Jaime didn't hesitate. The burning only lasted for a few seconds but it felt like forever.  
  
He crowded Pycelle's space and looked down on him. “And what are you going to do to prevent that?”  
  
Pycelle shrank back from him. “I could-I could make a- a hemlock ointment!” He squeaked, nodding his head. “It will return the feeling to your hand.”  
  
Jaime grinned sharply and clamped a solid hand on Pycelle's shoulder. “Good thinking. I'll be back for it before supper.” He shook the old man, to make sure he understood. “This meeting between us never happened. Got it?”  
  
Pycelle needed another shake until he nodded his head in agreement.  
  
|< **x** >|  
  
Hours later, Jaime enjoyed his dinner listening to Tyrion's radio show in his rooms. The hemlock ointment smelled like old mushrooms, but it sent tingling sensation through his right arm.  
  
Tyrion, Lord of Communication, was discussing a recent event that took place in the city. “You may not have heard, but a train of food carts were attacked and overturned yesterday afternoon in Flea Bottom. The mob was apparently screaming 'Food over Taxes' as they killed two Gold Cloaks.”

Jaime tilted his head toward the radio as his brother sighed over the airwaves. “The King was storing that food for winter. You could solve this a better way, by petitioning the King and his new Hand at court. They'll arrive back from the North in a moon's turn. I'll be announcing it here!” Food was likely to be given to the mob as Robert was likely to be sober.  
  
Jaime was again thankful that Robert had not considered him for _that_ role. It would be funny to see honorable Ned Stark chase around Robert, cleaning his messes. A knock sounded at his door. He went to open it. “Ser Jaime, your father wishes to see you immediately.” The messenger, Peck, announced.  
  
Jaime laughed, hoping Pycelle burned his tongue tonight. Peck observed him, startled. Jaime waved him forward. “Lead, the way, boy.”  
  
Lord Tywin Lannister had not been the Hand of the King for many years, and wasn't currently. But his banks were established across five regions in the realm, and that required Tywin to remain in Kings Landing.  
  
“Jaime.” his father said when Jaime entered his solar. He was standing behind his desk, hands planted on a flattened leather map. Tywin wore a red wine suit, with a golden lion pinned to his chest. His sparse blonde hair was combed neatly behind his ears.  
  
“Father.” Jaime intoned, taking a seat at Tywin's immense oak desk. The room was well lit with warm electric lamps. “I thought you would have been at the going away feast.”  
  
“I thought you would have too.” Tywin observed, raising an eyebrow.  
  
Jaime fought the compulsion to explain himself. “To what do I owe this honorable visit?”  
  
Tywin scowled at the sarcasm, then he sat down and tented his fingers over his parchment and quills. “I've learned you've lost your ability to fight.” Never one to mince words, Tywin's green eyes pinned Jaime in his chair.  
  
Jaime forced a good-natured smile, tightening his right hand into a controlled fist. “Untrue, father. I'm as good a sword as always.” He wiggled the fingers of his right hand for emphasis. He was wearing his golden silk glove again.  
  
Tywin looked to Jaime's hand as though it were a nuisance. “You're getting older, Jaime, and your injury slows you further.” Jaime opened his mouth to interrupt but Tywin held up a hand, silencing him. “It's time that you set aside your white cloak, and claim your place as the Lord of Casterly Rock.”  
  
Jaime huffed out a dry, sour laugh. This song had been sung long ago. When Jaime recovered from his burns, his father pressed to get his heir back. Tywin didn't like being wrong. “But there already is a 'Lord of Casterly Rock.' ” Jaime deepened his voice to imitate his father's. Tywin's glower could spoil milk. “And if I set aside my white cloak, I'd have to set aside my head. As you know, my service to the King is for life.”  
  
"And should your sword hand fail when he needs you? The King would have a very short life."  
  
Jaime curled his right fist and stood up to leave, sweeping his white cloak behind him, stretching the long day off of him. “Well father, this talk was quite prodigious. I'll see you in the morning then?”  
  
“I don't think you will. You have arrangements to finish.” Tywin said behind him. Jaime turned back. His father had not moved from his place at the desk. “I do have arrangements to make,” Jaime said, feeling dread curl low in his belly. “For our trip North.”  
  
He could see the trap. He could feel it closing in around him. “Winterfell?” Tywin said, mockingly modest. “No. His grace King Robert, has commanded you to stay behind and train the Brightroar Blades.” Tywin lifted a letter from the desk. “Winterfell is beyond your concern.”  
  
Jaime made his way back to his father's desk. He grabbed the parchment and read. It took him a moment, deciphering the symbols until they made sense. His jaw clenched as he finished and he met his father's gaze. “Good work, father.” Jaime conceded with a small bow. “For some reason I thought you'd assigned some Riverlord for this-Bracken!” Jaime suddenly remembered.  
  
Tywin blinked at him. “ _The King_ changed his mind.” he said, and Jaime knew exactly who the King was _this_ time. “Besides, as a Kingsguard, you have more authority to protect the wealth and health of the realm against the King's carelessness.” Tywin was still freshly furious from the robbery that took place a few weeks ago. Everyone was to blame from Robert to the fool, Moon Boy. His father had sent search parties to every region of the continent, yet the culprits eluded him.  
  
Tywin's finger ran a line up the Kingsroad on his map. “You'll need to station some Brightroars at these castles.” He moved on and tapped a few more places in the Riverlands. “But I want the majority of them placed around these locations near Harrenhal.”  
  
“Would still be a job better suited for Bracken.” Jaime mumbled. Then chagrined, he realized he was already accepting this farce of a role.  
  
Tywin gave him an annoyed look. “Jonos Bracken is a _Lord_.” His father's tone droned with hard condescension. “He has a land to rule. Whereas you are a lifelong _servant_. So serve.”  
  
But Jaime knew that wasn't true. Tywin Lannister was forming the Brightroar Blades as a punishment for the robbery. It had taken place near the Riverlands. Plus, Eddard Stark would be travelling down that way. Outside of Dorne, Winterfell was the only other region in Westeros to reject the installment of a Brightroar Bank. By surrounding him in the Riverlands, Jaime knew Tywin was using the Blades to make Ned Stark regret that decision.  
  
“Why not my cousin Daven or Uncle Kevan?” Jaime asked. “They're perfectly capable of running your personal army for you.”  
  
Tywin shook his head and Jaime knew his look was saying, ' _pathetic'_. “Next you'll be asking me which Kingsguard brother can take your place.” his father said.  
  
“I could discuss it with the King and offer a better suggestion.” Jaime countered.  
  
Tywin snorted, unlordly. “And humiliate yourself further? Perhaps you can ask him in front of the whole court.” Jaime felt a vein throb in his neck. His father's eyes skewered him. “No. I think the King would more appreciate you training his men, rather than place his fate in your burnt, crippled hand.”  
  
Jaime looked away from his father, seething.  
  
Tywin tucked the letter back in with his other important documents and folded his hands neatly atop them on the desk. “So. Here's your choice; you can be Lord of the Rock or Lord of the Swords.”  
  
Jaime gave a smile that pinched into his cheeks, and bowed to his father. “Good night, my Lord.” _And well played_ , he thought bitterly.  
  
|< **x** >|  
  
Back in his quarters, Jaime punched his wall with his right hand, and relished the shock of pain that ran from his fist to his elbow. His bedside lamp was giving off a low glow in the room. His radio was playing a sweet song in the corner. It came to an end and his brother's voice crackled onto the waves. “Ah, jazz can get me through the winter.” Tyrion Lannister crooned through the speaker.  
  
Jaime stripped off his white things, listening.

“But food would be better. When I announce the King's return, petition his Hand to open a food kitchen in Flea Bottom.”  
  
Jaime smirked. Subtle be damned; Tyrion was always trying expand his message beyond what their father accepted.  
  
Tyrion changed the subject. “Either way, a reminder: the Brightroar Blades will begin recruiting next week on a first come first serve, basis. If you're hungry now, and want to earn two gold dragons a week-”  
  
Jaime shut the radio off, feeling his irritation spike. He considered his burned arm. It smelled strongly of the fresh coat of hemlock ointment Pycelle had given him. How was he supposed to keep the damn silk of his glove from staining? He climbed into bed in his small clothes, wondering what Cersei would think of this. As he fell asleep, he prayed that he'd have a chance to speak with her, before she went North without him.


	3. Born to be Seen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon's world is spun around when his sellsword band, the Golden Company, takes on a contract for a Targaryen prince in Westeros.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I missed my Saturday posting deadline so I'm giving you 2 chapters today! I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Check me out on [Tumblr](https://simone-black.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Please leave comments! My love language is words lol

****

**Jon**

Jon Sand knew he was a King. Or so his father, Ser Arthur Dayne would tell him. He'd been born the son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark, and one day he would rule Westeros from the Iron Throne.  
  
Jon didn't feel like a king, and they didn't live like royalty. They didn't even live in Westeros. Jon Sand had been born in Dorne nineteen years ago, though his earliest memories were of the inns in Essos. His father, Arthur Dayne, had been serving in the Golden Company for as long as Jon could sit a horse. When he was old enough, Dayne allowed him to squire and wield a sword from time to time.  
  
It was the only life Jon had ever known, and he didn't see it changing any time soon.  
  
When Jon was old enough to fight, his father brought him to a meeting with Harry Strickland; Dayne's close friend, Jon Connington, was with them. Dayne stressed that Jon was the heir, and that they should set their swords towards Westeros in his name. Harry Strickland took one look at Jon's dark hair and long face regretfully. Jon didn't look like a Targaryen at all. He didn't even look like his father; much darker than Dayne's pale blonde hair and purple eyes. The meeting was terse and short, and Jon could barely keep up beyond his feeling of rejection. Toward the end, Harry Strickland put his hand on Dayne's shoulder and suggested, “Arthur, let's focus on the contracts set before us.”  
  
Jon could only imagine his father's frustration _now_ as they sat amongst the other Golden Company generals on their vacation in Lys, discussing a Westerosi contract from another Targaryen prince.  
  
“How do we know this King Viserys is real? I heard his head was sent to Kings Landing twenty years ago.” Said Laswell Peake.  
  
Gorys Edoryen, the company paymaster, looked like a speaking corpse with blood red hair. “He contacted us around six years ago, offering his sister as a wife for our service.”  
  
“To which one of us, though?” Franklyn Flowers asked with a grin.  
  
Jon Connington wrinkled his nose. “You weren't an option, Flowers.” Connington's red hair and beard were neatly trimmed for the trip.  
  
Before Flowers could parry a reply, Laswell Peake cracked, “She'd be wife to all of us. We just switch each day of the week!” All the men laughed except for Jon, his father and Connington.  
  
Harry Strickland quieted the men down. He was round bellied, with a soft face and warm grey eyes; completely unexpected for the leader of the fiercest company of warriors in the world. “If we decide to make this boy king, I'm sure he'd give us every sister in Westeros.”  
  
“This King Viserys has Illyrio Mopatis backing him.” Lysono Maar, the company spymaster, told the group. “He has a plan to take the kingdom from the inside out.” The shift in the room turned to keen interest, and Jon watched his father from the corner of his eye.  
  
Dayne, whose body seemed to vibrate, spoke up. “If you don't even believe it's truly Viserys Targaryen, why take the risk? Why waste time and men when there are contracts to be won here in Essos?” Jon could hear the touch of bitterness at the end of his father's question. Jon Connington and Harry Strickland were the only one's who knew of Jon's heritage.  
  
Painted, pretty, purple eyed Lysono, looked to Jon's father curling a lock of silver hair around his finger. “Either way, this new King Viserys did something no one was able to do. He robbed a Lannister bank carriage, without leaving a trace. Got away with nearly four hundred thousand dragons. Tywin Lannister has no idea who's done it.” Lysono sat back in his chair, surveying Jon and Dayne. “But I know what he did. That kind of clever ambition can be just the thing to take the throne. It's why Illyrio took interest in him.”  
  
There was a general murmur of amazement around the table, and even Jon Connington whistled, impressed.  
  
“That's no chicken scratch.” Gorys Edoryen said, taking a sip of wine.  
  
“Nor is it some little sister's cunt either.” Black Balaq agreed, crossing his arms.  
  
“Illyrio is offering to host us at his private island off the Broken Arm of Dorne.” Harry told the men. “He's always generous. I say we listen to his offer. The worst outcome would be that we extend this vacation being showered with gifts.”  
  
Around the table, the men all agreed and Jon felt tingles of relief when his father spoke no further.  
  
But when the men filed out of the room, Dayne remained and held Jon along with him. “You've known Jon as king for years. What about this new prince makes you confident he'll succeed?”  
  
Harry looked at them for a long moment then sighed. “I'm confident in nothing, Ser Arthur. But if there is a chance to settle my men...” He shrugged.  
  
Dayne put his hand on Jon's shoulder. “So you trust a man you don't know, over a prince that has fought loyally beside you for years?”  
  
Harry sighed. “Don't tire me with this, Arthur.” He started to step past them. “Nothing's set in stone. There's always opportunity for the future.”  
  
They headed for their inn building. “Father.” Jon said, and Dayne paused and turned to face him. His father looked ready to lash out. “You don't...”Jon paused, afraid to say what was on his heart. “You don't have to fight with Strickland.” Jon finished lamely, looking away.  
  
“Jon.” His father placed a hand on his shoulder. Jon looked up at his father's softened expression. “I will give you everything you were born for, son.” Dayne said, patting him.  
  
Jon exhaled sharply. “Father can we just...stop for a while please? I'm looking forward to some peace.”  
  
Dayne nodded his head. “Go rest, son. Things will come together soon.”  
  
Jon's stomach clenched when he saw the scheme working in his father's eye.  
  
|> **The Black Mummers** <|

The ship from Lys to Illyrio's island took only two days. The sea was rough but the oarsmen powered through. Illyrio was there on the docks to greet them himself, along with a line of collared slave women. Illyrio was the fattest man Jon had ever seen; his weight, a display of wealth in itself.  
  
The Broken Arm island housed a mountain and Illyrio's marble manse was cut into the side of it. The weather was warm by day and windy. Sea spray misted the island as waves crashed against the rocky shore. At night, the manse was lit up like a beacon.

Each Golden Company general was given their own room in a private wing as long as a street. Jon was given a room to share with his brother's, Satin and Daemon Sand. Their rooms had been decked out with gifts; most notably, they were given gold dragon broaches with ruby eyes. Jon turned the golden pin over in his hand, thinking. This was really his heritage? Viserys was in this to win it.

“Like the prince's pretty gifts?” Daemon Sand asked, unpacking his rucksack. Daemon was a handsome, blue-eyed, muscular Dornish man with skin and hair the colour of sand. His left arm was banded with seven gold rings, one for each year of his service with the company.

“He certainly isn't holding back.” Jon mused, tossing the broach onto a carved dresser, full of gifts.

Pretty, black-haired Satin flowed over with his arms crossed; his bicep bore two golden rings. “What if the generals really do accept Illyrio's offer?” He asked. He was dressed in his finest, his black beard oiled and perfumed.

Jon was oddly grateful that his friends opted not to wear any of the clothes Illyrio had given them. “I never thought this would be my opportunity to see Westeros.” He answered Satin.

Prince Viserys threw them a welcome feast full of rich, delicious food. Quails baked with honey, a whole roasted swan, fried octopus, steamed carrots and whole corn, hot peppers with onions; rivers of red and white wine from the Westerosi Arbor, and a cold sweet cream for dessert. The storied, beautiful princess Daenerys had not been present at that dinner, but it seemed this Mopatis had ordered his women slaves to entertain them by any means necessary.

Viserys and Illyrio kept the conversation light and funny with jokes and descriptions of the islands, Illyrio's business and past Golden Company contracts. Viserys didn't really seem to talk about himself much, and Jon assumed it was all being held for the big reveal. Jon watched his father out the corner of his eye. Ser Arthur only took bites of his meal and glared in Illyrio's and Viserys' direction.  
  
When Jon and his brothers retired to their room for the night, Daemon Sand commented, “Your father seemed angry.”

Jon laid back in his bed, with his arms crossed beneath his head. “He feels that we're wasting our time with this.” Jon answered. He'd never told his brothers that he was the Prince. Never imagined he'd need to. He wasn't ready to tell them now.

Daemon was eyeing him curiously, but Jon ignored him and turned toward the wall. He was not looking forward to whatever scheme his father was planning to hatch tomorrow. Because he knew his father was going to try and do something.

|< **x** >|  
  
The next morning they broke their fast on chopped eggs with peppers, bacon, blueberries, and Myrish coffee. When they were full and the dishes cleared, Viserys and his party entered the dining hall for their meeting.  
  
Behind Viserys; a tall, muscular, freckly blonde woman followed. After her; a girl, comically small in comparison to the first, brown skinned and coily haired. Next was none other than the princess Daenerys. And last, a brown boy from the Summer isles; young and fierce and soft all at once.  
  
Viserys, Daenerys and the little brown girl took seats with Illyrio, while the tall blonde and the Summer boy stood behind them. Jon compared the dragon princess with her brother. He was lean and gaunt, with stringy silver hair to his chin and harsh angles to his face. His sister was as alike as she was different. She wasn't dressed like any princess or noble woman he'd ever met; she wore a fine tunic, leather breeches and a long cloak. Daenerys had similar silvery gold waves as her brother and eyes deep purple. Her skin was alabaster, her face, the shape of a heart. Plush, pink lips and high cheekbones. Jon's heart thudded when he realized how beautiful she was.  
  
Viserys was seated at the head of the of the table. “My men!” He said glibly. “I hope you're finding your stay here enjoyable.”  
  
There was a general murmur of agreement around the table from the other generals. Some of them were wearing Illyrio's gifts. Jon saw that Gorys Edoryen was wearing the dragon pin proudly on his chest.  
  
Harry Strickland spoke first. “You've, been a gracious host, both of you. What exactly is your plan?”  
  
Viserys gestured to the fat lord. “Illyrio here has been gracious enough support me in my claim for the Iron Throne. With you, we plan to build a great army along the eastern coast, and then conquer Kings Landing.”  
  
Gorys Edoryen raised a hand. When Viserys lifted his chin to him he said, “Do you have knowledge of which houses support your claim?”  
  
Illyrio spoke now. “The lords of Crackclaw Point have strongly supported the Targaryens. The lords of the Stormlands are neglected. And there is trouble brewing in the Riverlands.” He said that last bit with a smirk, and even from way down the table, Jon could see a flash of gold in Illyrio's tooth.  
  
“We only need to take Kings Landing and the rest of Westeros will follow.” Viserys asserted.  
  
“We still have to contend with the Crown. And Tywin Lannister.” Jon Connington said, standing with his arms crossed.  
  
“The King is much hated across the land. We have an agent in Kings Landing who's going to take the Lannisters down from the inside.” Illyrio coaxed.  
  
The big woman behind Daenerys shifted where she was standing.  
  
“And if you're worried about gold, I'll double what ever Viserys offers you.” Illyrio finished.  
  
“I have some contacts in Westeros I can call for support.” Lysono said leaning back in his chair. He too, was wearing a dragon broach, Jon saw.  
  
Viserys nodded, stood up straight and opened his hands to the men in the room. “We'll be a force. Sweeping through the land and claiming it as ours. Stand with me and I will give you Westeros.”  
  
There was a beat of silence as the men turned to each other and started whispering. Jon turned to his father but Dayne was standing up. “I'm sorry to spoil your dream, _Prince_ ,” Dayne started, eyes probing Viserys. Jon felt his breath catch when his father put his hand on the back of his chair. “This is the true King of Westeros. Aemon Targaryen. Son of Rhaegar and Lyanna Targaryen. We should be taking the throne in _his_ name.”  
  
The silence was heavier than their war elephants, all eyes laid on Jon and Dayne. His father was the finest sword in the company and a high ranking general besides. But in this moment, Jon felt very afraid for his father. Viserys studied them, his face twisting in anger. “And who are you?” He sneered.  
  
Jon felt his father stand up a little taller. “I am Ser Arthur Dayne. Kingsguard to Aemon, and before, to Rhaegar.”  
  
Viserys' eyes were as dark as hatred. “How long have you served the company, Ser?” He asked Jon's father.  
  
Dayne paused to think. “Fifteen years. How long have you been a prince?” Jon glimpsed Strickland groan, run a hand over his face, and grumble, “...fucks sake's, Arthur.”  
  
“Fifteen years.” Viserys breathed thoughtfully, stroking his sparse silver beard. “All that time and the Golden Company never lifted a sword for him. That doesn't sound like support.”  
  
Jon's hand hit the table as he jumped to his feet. “We've been exiled and fighting hard to come back to these lands for decades, and yet you appear out of nowhere and call yourself a Prince!”  
  
His father took strength from that. “I was there in Dorne when Lyanna gave birth to him. She begged me to keep him safe as she died.”  
  
“I thought Jon was your son.” Haldon Halfmaester pointed out.  
  
“I love him as such.” Dayne said thoroughly. “I gave him a bastard name to keep him safe. Because I know he will make the perfect king to heal this land.”  
  
Jon's heart swelled. He raised his chin. “I will be.”  
  
“You all must be confused.” Viserys drawled. “Your brothers are here on _my_ invitation. You are _my_ guest. Sit down, Ser. You have nothing to offer but your sword.”  
  
“My father has no reason to lie.” Jon growled. “He'd swear it on his blade, _Dawn_.”  
  
Daenerys spoke then. Her voice was bright as a lemon. “Seems like we're all working toward the same goal. Best we join our strength and destroy our enemies together.” Her eyes slid to Jon. “Besides, the dragon has three heads, they say.” Her words, her glowing purple eyes sent a shiver down Jon's spine.  
  
Viserys stood up and made a show of dusting himself off. “So are we in agreement, _my_ men. Will you join me?”  
  
Harry Strickland nodded his head and said, “Aye.” There was a rumbling of assent around the table. Franklyn Flowers slapped the table with a laugh, “Can't wait to kill me some Lannisters!”  
  
When it came around the table to their group, Jon didn't wait for his father to speak. “We'll join our strength and take the throne.” Jon declared.  
  
Viserys raised his wine cup in toast. “I thank you, men. To celebrate our alliance, you all are invited as honoured guests, when I wed my sister. Daenerys, Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.”  
  
A cheer rang around the table and the men drank. Jon watched Daenerys and her crew. Three hands touched her shoulders as she stared straight forward, mouth dropped open and eyes wide. He hadn't told her, Jon realized sadly.

|< **x** >|

When the meeting adjourned, Jon asked his father if he could speak with his brothers, and Dayne agreed. He'd floated away from the hall feeling full as a hot air balloon.

Jon, Daemon Sand, and Satin sat around their room, lost in their thoughts for a moment. Jon played with the fourth golden ring around his bicep.

“I think it suits you.” Satin said, breaking the silence. “You being King.”

Jon smiled at his friend's words. “Why do you think that?” He asked.

Satin flipped his black curls behind his shoulder. “Oh, you know why. We fight to make each other better men. You'll be a better king.”

Jon's chest warmed at Satin's words. “They were my parents, but I'd still be the same man if they weren't.”

“We know that, Jon.” Daemon said. “But you are the King. Could you see yourself sitting on a throne?”

Jon tried to picture it. A chair made of swords. It sounded foolish. “I wouldn't know what I was supposed to do!” He blurted.

His brothers looked stunned. “Jon, do you think we could fail?” Daemon asked him, searchingly.

Jon shot an annoyed look at Daemon. They'd become brothers the day they learned they were both Sand's from Dorne. “I'm not afraid.” Jon ground out.

“I'm not talking about fear.” Daemon crossed his arms. “Are you interested in being the King on the throne?”

Jon sighed. “Do you think people want a sellsword King?”

“Oh, so we're common sellswords now?” Satin jeered, throwing a pillow at Jon.

Jon caught it and snickered. “I'm sorry.”

“Do you think some pampered, soft princeling would make a better king?” Daemon asked Jon.

Jon thought of Viserys. “Viserys isn't soft.” Jon said. “He's mean, deep inside.”

They all went quiet at the thought of that.

“That princess. She wants the three of you to rule together.” Satin suggested.

 _Daenerys_. Jon had momentarily forgotten her and he sighed, remembering her face. “She's a strange one.” He hummed.

Satin slanted his gaze at him. “Is that what you think of her?”

Jon grinned. “Yes.” He nodded. “And I'll be King with her.”


	4. Held Up By Strings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daenerys is wed and she meets Jon for the first time.
> 
> TW: Noncon/Implied sexual assault
> 
> Dany stood up straight and shook her head. “I'm ready.” It was all she could say. Her sisters walked her through the manse. Brienne's hand stayed on her shoulder. Missandei clutched her elbow. The halls felt unusually quiet.
> 
> But then they were stepping out into Illyrio's garden, which bursted with sound. Everyone was dressed finely and cheering at her. Someone touched her and chills ran down her arms. Her gown was little more than a silk handkerchief held up by strings. Everyone else wore fine, warm clothes; long sleeves and thick breeches.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh this chapter was a delight to write! Big shout outs to [Erika](https://mobile.twitter.com/erikah3ck?fbclid=IwAR3fJuimknTPQVq8X9t5BXMEE6eeycG-IGLmB_x2SDVxs8iFrbjvhLrMoFo) for beta-ing my story! You motivate me! Anyway enjoy the chapter. Please feel free to leave comments and share if you're having a good time with this story.

****

**Daenerys**  
  
Daenerys and Brienne were laid out on her bed, chatting alone. Everyone else was sleeping. Though occasionally, Dany could hear the whispering footsteps of the slave women making wedding preparations outside the door.  
  
They were joking about Tywin Lannister. “How long do you think till he's searching up a horse's ass and it kicks him in the head!” Dany ribbed.  
  
Brienne's laugh was soft, her front teeth biting into her lower lip. “When he thinks he's squeezed out the last bit of lost gold, we'll already have the castle.” She tried lightly. Her face became tense, then.  
  
Daenerys was worried for Brienne, but she had to keep her spirits up. “You don't have to be afraid, you know.” Dany told her softly.  
  
Brienne looked back at her; her eyes were wide, crystal pools. “How not?” Her gaze drifted to the blankets. “Its not even just that I'm afraid.” Brienne said, giving Daenerys a soft look. “It hurts more that I'm expected to do the rough work because of the way I look.”  
  
Dany took Brienne's hand in both of hers. “Sister, I don't need to dream to know that your life is meant to be beautiful.”  
  
Brienne's eyes watered. “You know, we could try running away?” Brienne murmured to her. A question. “We only need to take a little of the gold. There's a place out there where we could live happy and free.”  
  
“Viserys would come after us. _And_ the Golden Company.” Dany shuddered at that. “They'd be hunting us more than Tywin Lannister.” Dany looked at Brienne's drawn, worried face. “I'm tired of running scared.”  
  
Brienne's shoulders hunched. “Viserys shouldn't be marrying you.” Realizing what she blurted, she blushed and apologized.  
  
Dany bit her bottom lip. She squeezed Brienne's hand to give herself comfort. “It's alright. I knew it might happen some day. I...I accept it.” Her mouth felt numb.  
  
Brienne's plush lips pulled down. “I should talk with him.”  
  
Dany folded her arms over her chest, shook her head. “He announced it in front of the Golden Company so we couldn't deny him. He won't stop with this plan.”  
  
Dany could feel the heat of Brienne's stare. “You think he'll be king.” she said, breathless.  
  
Dany gave her a crooked smile. “This is the biggest dream I've ever had, and I don't know when it's gonna stop.” She threw herself back on the bed. “I want to see if the Red Keep has red doors.”  
  
“We don't need a castle to be home.” Brienne reasoned with her.  
  
Daenerys layed on her side. “We don't need a castle, but we _need_ a home. A solid place to sink our roots. I keep dreaming of it. Don't think I'll stop until we get there.”  
  
“I don't want you to stop dreaming, little sister.”   
  
Dany launched herself across the bed and grabbed Brienne in a sloppy, awkward hug.  
  
When they let go, Daenerys asked Brienne, “Could you do me a favour when you're in Kings Landing?”  
  
Brienne nodded. “Yes.”  
  
“Tell me what that other world of Westeros is like. I know that the people there need us, I just want to learn how.”  
  
Brienne smiled, full of warmth. “You won't be far for very long. But yes, I will do as you ask me.” She looked down the length of her long arms. “ A lion's cloak would suit me.” It sounded like the truth. Daenerys agreed emphatically.  
  
They spent some time after that, talking of everything and nothing at all. It wasn't until Dany was winking, that Brienne suggested she retire for bed. Daenerys slipped under the covers, and Brienne kissed her forehead before turning out the light.  
  
|> **The Black Mummers** <|  
  
Daenerys dreamt she was walking on a sea of a thousand hands. Some were lifting her up, others were trying to pull her under. Up ahead of her was the altar. The man made of ash stood there, waiting for her. The hands that were trying to pull her down burned away . The hands uplifting her turned to gold, and melted together to form a hand printed path.  
  
When she stood before him he touched her shoulder and drew her to him for a kiss. She'd done this before, she realized as his lips melted over hers. She tingled all over. Her mouth opened to taste him. He tasted like fire, filling her up with embers.  
  
She was awoken by a sharp, hard knock upon her bed frame. Illyrio's serving girl, Doreah, was standing over her. “I'm here to prepare you.” said blonde, pretty Doreah.  
  
Doreah opened Daenerys' door and a river of women flowed into the room, carrying trays, wooden boxes, flowers. They sat Dany down at her marble table so she could break her fast. She could barely taste the food, as she watched the women flit this way and that; carrying, removing, and rearranging things.  
  
Doreah was putting flowers into a vase at her table. “Would you ladies like to eat with me?” Daenerys asked, loud enough for them all to hear.  
  
The women stopped what they were doing. Doreah paused with the flowers and looked at her. Daenerys realized how childish she sounded. “I would love to, Queen, but...” Doreah gestured to the flowers and the room began to bustle again. Daenerys nodded and Doreah continued her duties.  
  
Her bath was next. Man servants brought in a great copper tub sloshing with water. Three of the slave women undressed her. As Dany sank into the warm water, more women finished filling the tub to the rim.  
  
Doreah and two other women scrubbed her with sweet smelling soaps and oils. They washed and oiled her hair, brushed it until it shined like polished silver. They perfumed her. Dabbing the oil at her neck, behind her ears, between her breasts, and down there on her nether lips.  
  
Then came the dress. It was a silky silver cloth so light and fine, Dany was almost afraid to touch it. No amount of gold would make her think she could buy this.  
  
The dress felt like air and water on her skin. They adorned her with jewels; dark gold studded with deep purple amethysts, to bring out the colour in her eyes. Her wrists dripped with bracelets, a golden torque was laid upon her collarbone and Dany felt akin with Illyrio's slave women more than ever. On her head, they placed a golden crown with a dragon at the center. She felt itchy.  
  
When they were finished, the ladies stepped back to admire their work. “Thank you so much.” Dany told them, after she was finished seeing how she looked in the mirror.  
  
“You could be in a storybook!” Doreah gushed, clasping her hands together.  
  
Dany found that interesting. “You like to read?” She asked Doreah. She tried to smile, but it felt like a weight on her lips.  
  
The women left her so they could finish preparing for the ceremony. Her room was a forest of flowers and perfume and candles. Daenerys opened her balcony doors and let the wind dance through the room. The candles flickered. She crossed her arms, thinking. Illyrio's men had retrieved all they owned from their little sea cave in Dorne. Their horses were somewhere on the island. It would be impossible to run away, like Brienne suggested.  
  
She sat on the chaise lounge near her patio and tried to read her book about the Kingsguard, but she found it hard to concentrate. Noises floated up to her from the garden where she would wed.  
  
She found herself remembering her time as a small girl, when she lived in Braavos, at the house with the red door. It was the only place that she'd ever called home, and even now, the thought of it gave her little comfort.  
  
The evening came. There was a knock on her door. Brienne and Missandei entered her room. “We're here to escort you.” Brienne said chuckling and bowing. But then Missandei was bowing too and Daenerys' belly churned.  
  
“My ladies.” Dany said bowing deeply at the hip. They all laughed, then rushed to each other and hugged. Dany swiped away a tear.  
  
“That Illyrio wanted to come get you.” Missandei said. She shook her head. “I don't know why he thought we'd let that happen.” She was wearing a loose, green sandsilk one piece, with sleeves that hugged her wrists and ankles. A gift from Illyrio.  
  
“Do you want some wine?” Brienne asked, placing her big, delicate hand on Dany's shoulder blade. Brienne's tunic was the color of buttermilk, her vest was dappled brown cow leather. She wore moss green breeches. Another gift from Illyrio.  
  
Dany stood up straight and shook her head. “I'm ready.” It was all she could say. Her sisters walked her through the manse. Brienne's hand stayed on her shoulder. Missandei clutched her elbow. The halls felt unusually quiet.  
  
But then they were stepping out into Illyrio's garden, which bursted with sound. Everyone was dressed finely and cheering at her. Someone touched her and chills ran down her arms. Her gown was little more than a silk handkerchief held up by strings. Everyone else wore fine, warm clothes; long sleeves and thick breeches.  
  
Grey Worm hugged her and she felt secure when she turned to face Viserys. He looked...handsomer than usual. The hollows of his cheeks filled in. She couldn't remember the last time he'd looked so happy when he smiled at her. He kissed her hand.  
  
The wedding was performed under the ceremony of the Red God of the east. Viserys and Dany jumped over a firepit, with their hands linked. The crowd's applause was loud, around the courtyard, and even louder, with cheers and whistles when Viserys took Daenerys in his arms and kissed her. When he tried to push his tongue past her lips, she broke the kiss as graciously as she could. "Later." He promised her, then raised their hands in the air to the cry of more cheers and whistles.  
  
The food was fine and rich and even Daenerys fell on it as if she hadn't eaten in days. Duck with oranges, grilled squid, snails in honey and garlic, soups of pumpkin and leeks and potato, different salads with strawberries, chickpeas, nuts, spinach, lemongrass and sweetgrass, the dishes kept on coming. And there was wine, overflowing.  
  
When Daenerys felt like her head was spinning and she could eat no more, her brother called for dancing, and dragged Dany to the middle of the yard. Every one else followed suit; the Golden Company men partnered up with Illyrio's slave women. The musicians played drums, flute, fiddle and bells; a fast, lively beat.  
  
“Are you pleased, my Queen?” Viserys rumbled to her. His breath felt damp against her cheek.  
  


“I'm just happy to finally be going home.” she told him.  
  
"The very ground we walk on is home for us. We're finally getting what we deserve." His hand squeezed her backside and she stiffened.  
  
They traded partners and Dany found herself with Harry Strickland of the Golden Company. He gave her congratulations and compliments on her beauty, and made noises about helping her and her new husband regain their crowns. It was more of the same with her other dance partners; other members of the Golden Company.  
  
Then she came face to face with Jon Sand, Arthur Dayne's son. Or the other king. She wasn't sure. The moment he took her into his arms, she shuddered. He was so _warm_. Dany wanted to lean into him. Jon was stiff as he lead her through the steps. "You look very beautiful." He said dutifully.  
  
Daenerys couldn't stop herself from rolling her eyes, but she thanked him nonetheless. He huffed out a quiet laugh. "Tired of hearing that?" He asked her.

She missed a step, then laughed aloud. "Is it so apparent?"  
  
"I'd imagine its tedious saying the same thing over and over again."  
  
She pouted. "Maybe I should be more creative."  
  
He laughed and gazed at her. "It is true, though. You are as beautiful as a dream."  
  
Dany's cheeks warmed. She looked up into his face. Grey eyes. She'd looked at him before, but now she was getting a really good look at him. He was pretty, she felt. Dark hair, a long face, and full lips. She wanted to say something witty and charming, so he could laugh again.  
  
But then she was spinning away, and she slammed face first into Viserys. Her brother took her by the arm and exclaimed, “It's time for gifts!” Then in a lower tone he warned her, “ _Stop making a fool of yourself_.”  
  
The gifts were so extravagant that Daenerys swore she and Viserys could have bought their own army with them. She was given gold and diamond jewelry, Myrish silks, rare spices, ornate carved vases, sculptures, a carpet, jade combs, furs, soft slippers, and silken smallclothes to last her for years. Viserys was given his weight in gifts, equally as splendid.  
  
When she had a moment to breathe and take in all that she'd been given, Daenerys didn't see the point in any of it. They were going to be travelling all over the east coast of Westeros. These treasures were begging to get lost, stolen or abandoned. She'd have to offload it once she touched back on the mainland.  
  
Illyrio presented his final gift to Viserys; the finest of them all. A hush spread through the guests as servants placed down a slender scabbard before her brother. He took up the sword and slid it from the sheath.  
  
"It took me many years, but it was the only blade that would do for the Dragon King." Illyrio was saying.  
  
Viserys stood up from his seat and held the sword up for everyone to see. Black as smoke and embossed with gold and rubies. "Blackfyre," Illyrio breathed. "The sword marks your emergence."  
  
There was clapping and awed gasps. Viserys gave the sword an experimental swing and said, “Yet another sign lighting the way for the _true_ King of Westeros.” He aimed the point in Arthur Dayne and Jon Sand's direction.  
  
Viserys called for more dancing and drinking. When Daenerys sweetly refused him, he accepted and swept Doreah into his arms. Dany was grateful he wasn't quite ready for the bedding.  
  
Because--she realized, there would be a bedding. This wasn't just a party. She now had to play the role of Queen and wife. Suddenly, despite her clothes, she was too warm and she couldn't breathe.  
  
Daenerys left the party, ignoring the eyes on her. Through the echoey hallways, her feet led her to the wing Illyrio had given her and her gang. She found a balcony that branched off from the hallway.  
  
She knew this was what her dream was leading her to but none of it made sense to her. And the bedding... The bedding would come next. Viserys wasn't made of ash, so who was this man she'd kissed in her sleep? Her belly rolled dreadfully.  
  
She thought about the house with the red door. Would she ever know what it was like to be truly home? Without scheming and the threat of death in every shadow?  
  
“My queen." She turned to a servant standing behind her. "Are you unwell?" He asked, keeping his distance respectful.  
  
Dany looked upon the man. “Izambaro.” She said, remembering him. "I'm fine. Just a little tired of the party." She told him.  
  
In his hands was a ewer. "Illyrio sent me. To refresh you." He held out a cup and filled it for her.  
  
"I've had too much wine." Dany told him politely, waving away his offering.  
  
He placed the ewer down on the balcony. "It's only water, my queen. Have some. Cool your head."  
  
She felt he was too close now. And there was something off about him. Illyrio only kept women servants around the guests, she thought, feeling her heart quicken. "I told you no."  
  
He moved quickly then. He grabbed her and pulled her against his body. “You mean yes!” He snarled, forcing the cup to her lips and splashing water over her face. She tried to elbow him, kick him in the legs; but he had her arms locked at an odd angle. She wished for Brienne.  
  
She got Jon. He charged down the balcony and crashed into them, knocking all of them to the ground. Daenerys scrambled away and got to her feet. Jon and Izambaro were wrestling on the ground. She kicked Izambaro in his head. “Fuck!” She screeched and kicked him again.  
  
It helped Jon. The other prince managed to get a dagger out and was about to open the man's throat when Daenerys stopped him.  
  
“Sit him up.” She requested and Jon pulled the man to kneeling, blade at his throat.  
  
Daenerys realized she was panting as she watched the man. “Why?” She asked him. “Illyrio was going to help us take the kingdom. Why do this?”  
  
Izambaro spat out a tooth at her and grinned. “The best thing Illyrio pays with, is talk. He'll sacrifice all of us for the _possibility_ of you taking the kingdom. The Crown offers a lordship for you now.”  
  
Jon shook him by his hair. “And you would try and get one by attacking a woman?” Dany appreciated his fury.  
  
“If she drank, it would have been sweet and painless.” Izambaro reasoned.  
  
Daenerys shook her head, disappointed. “If you'd travelled with me, I would have paid your worth.” She curled her lip at him. “It's clearly not much, though.”  
  
“Daenerys, let me kill this man.” Jon begged. She ignored how her name on his tongue raised goosebumps.  
  
She shook her head at Jon. “He wants to see me drink.” She turned towards the water pitcher.  
  
Behind her, Jon stammered, “What!?” But she already had it in her hands. She drank half without spilling a drop.  
  
Izambaro laughed, bloody red. “You crazy bitch. We're both dead now.”  
  
Daenerys stooped in front of him. “Oh, but there's so much life in you yet.” She grabbed the front of his shirt and kissed him.  
  
“What a way to die!” Izambaro gasped when she pulled away. He looked her from toe to top. “Let me kiss your cunt next.”  
  
She stepped back from Izambaro and requested, “Hold him still, please.” to Jon. The bewildered prince did as she asked but he stared at her with wide, frightened grey eyes. Daenerys looked away from him. He thought she was mad.  
  
Izambaro was a dead man. He brayed about her dying soon. That his brothers would come after Viserys and her bastards next. They'd fuck the little one bloody and tear out her throat, he said. Then he stopped talking. His mouth dropped open in a wordless scream. His eyes grew wide and white as boiled eggs. He inhaled a ragged breath, and as he exhaled, he seemed to age before her eyes. His skin dried and shriveled against his bones. His hair became as white as the terror in his eyes. He trembled so violently that Jon had to let him go. The corpse collapsed face first onto the ground. One more terrible tremor against the marble floor, and he was gone.  
  
Daenerys breathed. She thought Izambaro would burn. Then she remembered Jon's eyes on her and she looked at him. “We have to hide him.”  
  
Jon looked over the balcony. The shore below was rocky and full of rough waves. “We'll toss him over.” Jon told her. They did. In minutes of working together, Izambaro disappeared into a crashing wave.  
  
Her eyes pleaded to Jon as she patted her hair self-consciously. “How do I look?” She asked him.  
  
He stepped close to her and offered her his hand. “You're still beautiful.” He told her. Her face grew warm.  
  
She placed her arm in his and he escorted her back to the party. They walked slowly and Jon's warmth was like the light of summer on her skin.  
  
“You survived nearly killing yourself.” He stopped then and turned her to face him. “Are you not going to say anything about what you just did?” He asked her, stunning her.  
  
“You know what you saw.” Daenerys told him. More quietly she entreated him, “Please don't tell.”  
  
He started to guide her again. “I don't even know what just happened.” Jon mumbled.  
  
She tilted her head towards him. “But you were trying to find out.” She said. “You came after me.”  
  
He huffed and rolled his eyes. “I only had to pee.”  
  
Daenerys blinked a few times at that, then burst out laughing; so hard she was nearly bent in half. Jon was laughing too.  
  
They linked arms again. “Does that happen to every man you kiss? He asked her.  
  
She raised her eyebrow at him. “You think that's how I kiss?” He blushed. She grinned.  
  
|< **x** >|  
  
Viserys was swaying and bellowing, "Wife! Where's my wife?" His eyes narrowed when they fell to Daenerys and Jon. The sellsword prince disentangled himself from her. Viserys grabbed her by the wrist and held it up for the guests to see. "I want to feel my wife's thighs! Time for the bedding!" Whistles and catcalls rang from the crowd as Illyrio's lady maids came to attend Viserys.  
  
“Jon Sand can help undress my wife first.” He called in Daenerys' direction. She was frozen solid, yet her body was boiling. Illyrio's maids took Viserys away, stripping him as they went. Jon immediately rejected participating.  
  
Daenerys looked at the Golden Company men around her. Some looked as confused as she felt. Others gazed at her with open lust.  
  
Brienne put a hand on her shoulder. “Daenerys.” Her voice was the sweetest thing. “Let's go.” Missandei and Grey Worm were beside her.  
  
Slave women sprinkled a path of rose petals up to the private wedding wing Illyrio assigned them.  
  
Brienne's hand never left her shoulder; just squeezing and rubbing sometimes.  
  
They were at the double door of the chamber she'd share with Viserys.  
  
“I'm here for you. Just come to me if you need me.” Brienne said, finally taking her hand away.  
  
Missandei hugged her. “This won't be for forever.” She said, full of hope. Daenerys stroked her hair once.  
  
Grey Worm simply hugged her and told her he loved her. He felt much taller than the last time they'd hugged.  
  
She took a deep breath, nodded to her siblings, then spun around and slipped into the room.  
  
The door shut heavily behind her. Viserys lay naked on the bed, waiting for her.  
  
“Are you ready for me wife?” Viserys' question sent a shudder through her body. She stepped closer.  
  
"I've waited a very long time for this." He said getting off the bed and standing before her. “We were always meant for this, Daenerys.”  
  
He put his hands on her hips and pressed into her. He was hard. "Could we take a bath together first?" She asked him in a small voice.  
  
He shook his head. "No." He pulled her in and kissed her with all of his passion. When he didn't stop kissing her, she yielded, allowing his tongue to probe her mouth. "This is what we've always wanted" Viserys hissed, slipping her dress straps off her shoulders.  
  
He nudged her to the bed and made her climb on. He stripped her small clothes and touched her. She swallowed thickly. “When we make a son, we'll have all the power that we've lost. Arthur Dayne's bastard is nothing.”  
  
When he entered her, Daenerys watched the candles burn. She thought of a red door. A golden pelt. And a man made of ash filling her up with fire.

  
  



	5. Come My Way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne's adventure begins. 
> 
> “If you got papers to sell, let me know how much.” Brienne found herself murmuring. “Or leave me be.” Her hand brushed the hilt of her stiletto sword, so the woman would get the gist.
> 
> Brienne's Theme  
> [Mood: Jessie Reyez- Far Away](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JF0bPET0XNY)  
> 
> 
> [Mood: Sudan Archives - Come Meh Way](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KLPGMb35ubk)
> 
> Shouts to [Erika](https://mobile.twitter.com/erikah3ck?fbclid=IwAR3fJuimknTPQVq8X9t5BXMEE6eeycG-IGLmB_x2SDVxs8iFrbjvhLrMoFo) for beta!

**Brienne**

The days leading up to the wedding had been hell for Brienne. Viserys and Illyrio always found time to get away from the preparations to give Brienne ' _man_ ' lessons.

“No! Not like that!” Viserys scolded, grabbing Brienne by the wrist to stop her. He looked below her waist in frustration. “You throw your hips like a whore!”

Brienne was surprised she wasn't light-headed, by how hot she was blushing. “I don't understand what I'm doing wrong.” She groused.

“You have too much sway in your hips, Lady.” Illyrio soothed, stroking his beard.

“Brienne! There's nothing wrong with the way you walk!” Missandei called to her. She, Daenerys and Grey Worm were all there for her lesson this time.

“Like hell there isn't.” Viserys snarked. He walked a circle around Brienne, eyeing her critically. “You need to slouch your shoulders more. It's sounds impossible, but I can still see your tits.”

Brienne bit her lip to keep it from wobbling. She'd spent her life trying to make herself seem smaller, but she would always be an ugly, eye catching woman; never enough. “I need to take a break.” She said, walking off before Viserys could give her permission.

Daenerys and Missandei scooted out the way so she could sit between them on Illyrio's marble side bench. “There is nothing wrong with you, Brienne. Your body is perfect.” Daenerys reassured, clamping her hand in Brienne's. Then she lowered her voice. “Illyrio has bigger tits than the three of us combined and no one cares!” The three women bursted out laughing.

Viserys whirled to them, glaring. “Leave! All of you.” His voice was a serrated edge.

Daenerys clutched Brienne's hand tighter. “We weren't doing anything!”

“GO!” Viserys' voice boomed in the stony hallway.

Reluctantly Brienne's brother and sisters stood to leave. Missandei bumped her knee reassuringly, before scampering out.

Viserys' eyes burned them until the double doors closed. He turned to Brienne and beckoned her to stand up. “Do it again.” He rumbled darkly.

Brienne tried to saunter in his direction. He rolled his eyes and scoffed. “Do you want them to know you're a woman!?” He snapped.

“How do you know it's the way I walk that will give it away, and not _everything else_!” Brienne cried, throwing her hands up. “I'm going to have my blood! What about when I bathe?” This plan was so undercooked it could give food poisoning.  
  
“Do you plan on stripping naked for them?” Viserys sneered.

Brienne was wrong. She could blush harder. By the end of her ' _man_ ' lesson she was dehydrated.  
  
They cut her hair. Brienne had never been attached to her lank yellow locks. She kept it short anyway, after a man had grabbed a chunk of it out at the root when she was younger. But when Illyrio's slave touched the razor to her head, she cried. Heavy, racking sobs and fat, dripping tears. She cried and cursed her looks. She cried for the people gone on her island. She cried because she was scared, and sad, and they didn't deserve any of this.

Daenerys was sitting with her. She clutched both of Brienne's big hands in her small ones. “We're going home.” Her little sister said, stroking her thumb along Brienne's skin. “Trust me.”

Brienne would always trust her little sister. She sucked up her tears, and let the exasperated slave finish. When it was done, her hair was shorn to a fine, yellow peach fuzz.

|> **The Black Mummers** <|  
  
Two days after the wedding, they saw Brienne off in the foggy, predawn gloom. Brienne promised herself she wouldn't cry; not in front of Viserys and the others.

Viserys said goodbye to her first. Brienne remembered the first day she met Viserys. While Queen Rhaella was birthing Dany, Viserys was sent forth to Braavos with Willem Darry. “You will not fail. Clear a path for us, sister.” He gave her an elbowy, awkward side-hug.

Missandei clutched her around the middle, nuzzling her little face into Brienne's belly. “Let me know where all the bathrooms are in the Red Keep.” She sobbed, laughing.

Then Brienne cradled Grey Worm. “Be safe, sister.” He told her, and squeezed.

When Brienne turned to Daenerys, her eyes watered. _Damn_. She had been there when Daenerys was born. Had been there when Dany grew her first tooth, and got her first scar, and had her first blood. This was the first time she was leaving her.

Dany's eyes were leaking. “This dream is going to make us into who we're supposed to be.” She hugged her tightly and whispered in Brienne's ear, "You remember your promise? To help as many people as you can?"

Brienne nodded her head. "I remember."  
  
The captain called for final boarding. Brienne sighed heavily. "Don't take too long coming." She said to them. Then she walked up the boarding plank and onto the ship. Her siblings waved at her for an impossibly long time as the ship backed away from the shore. Brienne waved back, and suddenly, they disappeared from view.

|< **x** >|  
  
It took two days for the ship, _Shield-Dancer_ make it to Kings Landing. A fast journey and blessed, the captain had told Brienne, on the rare occasion she left the privacy of her cabin. Illyrio instructed her to keep to herself. “There are no greater gossips than sailors. " He'd said, leering at her thighs.

The ship made landfall in the early morning of the third day. Brienne stepped onto the dock, rolling her chest of clothes behind her. The sky was gray and it was windy and cold. Brienne's fur cloak whipped around her body with each gust. Her eyes watered as a familiar smell greeted her. The Little Essos of Kings Landing was legendary; second in size only to Dorne's. Her family had never been here; they knew better than to ever try Kings Landing with the bounty on their heads. But she was a man now and the spices of the east called to her. She felt somewhat at home.

The docks ended with a line of crudely constructed wooden guard houses, that stood mere feet apart with gates in between them. A city guard of some sort with a golden cape was waving the seafarers over and directing them to one of three lines.

Brienne felt her knees weaken and her insides quiver. Already, she had to put her face in front of enemy guards.

Somehow she managed to walk, flowing a head taller than most of the crowd around her.

She stood in the shortest line in the middle, and wondered what she would say to get past these men.

Beside her, a woman stood; almost materialized. She was black haired and pale-faced and came up to Brienne's chest.

The line moved. Brienne took a step forward and the woman matched her.

Brienne glanced at her from the corner of her eye. The woman gazed at her slyly. The line moved forward again. Brienne debated confronting her as they moved in unison, again.

“You'll need to sign up for papers.” The woman mentioned, from the corner of her mouth. She spoke Valyrian. Her voice was soft, soothing almost.

Brienne ignored her, but her heart was thumping. No other Little Essos required papers just to enter a city. Poor Eastern travellers were required to sign up for work papers with a sponsor once they moved to Westeros. Most migrants ended up working for their sponsors for years. Brienne and her crew avoided that complication.

“A lot of things have changed due to recent events.” The woman continued. She wore a deep purple fabric dress, not a gown, with a matching fabric cloak around her shoulders.

Brienne's jaw clenched as ice water ripped through her veins. She didn't know what to say, what to make of this nosy woman, or what to do. “If you got papers to sell, let me know how much.” She found herself murmuring back. “Or leave me be.” Her hand brushed the hilt of her stiletto sword, so the woman would get the gist.

“None of that here.” The woman said, throwing a meaningful glance at Brienne's sword hand. “Don't want to get off on a bad foot with the guards.”

Brienne dropped her arm and looked at the woman openly. She eyed Brienne, then sighed. “Come with me.” The woman stepped out of line and Brienne was forced to follow. They walked up past the lines of waiting people and directly to the guard houses at the end of the dock.

The guard looked at them expectantly. The woman pulled out two small sheets of paper and handed it to him. He looked them over, handed them back over to the woman, and then they were in Little Essos proper.

The woman pressed one of those sheets of paper into Brienne's hand and said, “This way now.” Brienne barely had a moment to slip the paper into the pocket of her cloak.

The Little Essos of Kings Landing was just as any other she'd visited, but completely unique at the same time. The street was still hard packed dirt. Vendors were still selling their wares, calling out in Valyrian dialects. There were still the eastern scents of incense and oils permeating the air. But buildings sprang up high above their heads, one after the other with little space in between. The press of bodies was unlike anything Brienne had experienced. Everywhere she looked, there were people struggling against each other to get to their destination. The winter chill was chased away from all the combined body heat. Wild dogs, and children darted between legs. Brienne glimpsed a little hand slicing a little hole into a coin purse, without the owner's awareness.

“Where are you taking me?” Brienne asked the woman, over the swell of voices in the street.

“Are you hungry?” The purple woman asked Brienne, tilting her head to look up at her. Brienne's stomach agreed before she could even get the word out.

“I know just the place, to talk and get you fed.” The woman said and guided Brienne to the right, down a new, narrower street. The potshop they entered was a dingy wood and brick room, lit by candles, with a few tables, chairs and a bar that stretched the longest wall. The place had a number of people, despite it being just after dawn; mostly men who were all drinking.

Brienne and the woman sat in the back of the room, in a dark wooden booth. There were knife scars all over their table and crumbs from the last diner's meal. Brienne ducked her head and kept her hands in her lap.

Brienne was finally able to get a real look at the strange woman. Her black hair spilled down her ample chest, and her moon face grinned in a way that made Brienne's hair stand on end. A server came to them and laid one plate of food and one drink in front of Brienne.

Brienne looked down at the dish, then up at the woman, suspicious. “I ordered it before you came.” The woman told her. “Enjoy.”

Daenerys said that her journey would not be ominous. Brienne ate.

The food was delicious.

“So you knew I was coming?” Brienne asked the woman after she swallowed a mouthful of goat.

“Indeed, I did. Illyrio did a tremendous job, transforming you into a man.” The purple woman said, in a distinctly masculine voice.

Brienne stopped eating and had to blink at her. Just to make sure she hadn't imagined it. “What?” was all she could manage.

The man in the dress sighed sadly. “Did you believe that only you were allowed to masquerade as the opposite sex?” He asked her.

Brienne frowned. “No... but--”

The man giggled. "Illyrio told me you were strong and brave. But you'll have to be sharp too."

"So you're his man?" She finally attempted, trying to gain a footing in this bizarre conversation.

His lips peeled into a smile. "Lord Varys." He purred. "Spymaster of the royal small council of King Robert Baratheon."

Brienne's jaw fell open. She'd known that Illyrio's friend was a man of access, but she thought he might have been a servant or in some other position. Not an actual royal advisor! That explained why he was dressed as a woman.

  
"What will you do if someone questions you? What answers will you give to throw off suspicion?" He asked, his voice going even deeper.

  
"I...I... " Brienne tried but Varys patted her hand and tutted. There was a fine residue of white powder where he'd touched her.

  
"This is Viserys' doing.” He seemed to be muttering to himself. “Illyrio is too indulgent. Look at me." When she did, he took her by the chin and observed her face. He turned her head side to side. "So, who are you?" He asked her, which she felt was foolish, as he seemed to know already.

  
"I'm Bri--" she stopped short, realizing how incomplete the plan was. A glint flashed in Varys' eye as he let her face go. "There's that wit." His smile made her uneasy.

  
"Listen close and remember all that I say." He told her. "You are Brennan Waters, an orphan of Little Essos. I gave you your papers. Don't lose them."

Brienne reached into the pocket of her cloak and pulled out the little tab of paper. It was more of a card, with the name Brennan Waters printed in neat letters and a crowned stag stamped at the bottom. She lost her appetite.  
  
"Alright." Brienne sighed. "What else?"

  
"I've secured your place as one of the Brightroar Blades. You must check in at the Dragonpit two days from now; first thing in the morning, you'll meet your commanders."

  
Brienne chewed her lip, listening.

  
"Tywin Lannister will be in Winterfell for two months at least. When he returns our plan will go into action.”

“Two months!” Brienne exhaled loudly, eyes nearly popping from her skull. She could have stayed with her siblings and helped them take Kings Landing together. She would not have agreed to months of wallowing in a strange city, alone, with danger breathing down her neck.

Lord Varys' eyes weren't black, but the darkness behind them sent her survival signals spiraling. “Perfect timing for you to learn and plan your attack accordingly. You didn't think you'd just walk up and stick your sword in him, did you?”

She'd been too afraid to imagine _anything_ about Tywin Lannister. She'd only gotten a glimpse of him when he attacked her island, but he was absolutely unmistakable. “Of course not.” She nearly whimpered.

“Speaking of swords, I'll be needing yours."

  
"My sword?" Brienne's hand went to the blade at her hip out of reflex. It was new; a fine stiletto Viserys and Illyrio had gifted her.

  
"Yes. Best not to raise questions on how a Little Essos bastard got his hands on such quality steel." Varys said seriously, holding a powdered hand out to her. Reluctantly, Brienne unhooked her sword belt and handed it over. He shook his head when he took it.  
  
“Sleep at the Black Eel Inn these next two nights. They have a good reputation of not remembering who comes and goes through their establishment.” Varys instructed her. “And take your time learning this area of the city. Brennan Waters grew up here, remember?”

Brienne nodded her head. “I remember.” Her mouth felt wooden.  
  
Varys stood and pulled his hood over his head. “Then I'll leave you to your meal. I trust you'll find the Black Eel easily?" Brienne nodded again. "We'll see each other soon, Brennan Waters." Varys said in parting, and swept away.  
  
Brienne stared at the cooling remains of her meal, unsure whether she should allow herself to feel or not. She sighed. Dany told her she would wear a lion's pelt, cloaked around her shoulders. So Brienne decided she had no choice but to succeed.


	6. Shadows in Cold Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime welcomes his recruits and meets a tall, blonde bastard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back with chapter 6! From now own I will be updating chapters on Monday afternoons. Thank you again to [Erika](https://mobile.twitter.com/erikah3ck?fbclid=IwAR3fJuimknTPQVq8X9t5BXMEE6eeycG-IGLmB_x2SDVxs8iFrbjvhLrMoFo), who makes me feel more creative. Please Enjoy!

**Jaime**

Jaime no longer slept in the Red Keep. The Brightroars would be housed and trained in the Dragonpit. Tywin had it reconstructed, and it made Jaime imagine his father planned to create a militia long before the robbery. The pit was now a building; a ring-shaped structure, outfitted with electric lights and running water.

Jaime stepped out into the night on Rhaenys' Hill, the northeastern part of the city, alone. It was the first time in a very long time where he was truly just that. No King to follow behind. No secret meetings with Cersei. No tense round table talks with his brothers. It would even be his last night wearing the traditional armour of the Kingsguard. His father ordered special armour made, just for Jaime's role in the Brightroars. He inhaled the night air. The stink of Flea Bottom was in his nostrils on an unfortunate wind, but something sweeter too, the water of the bay. Tyrion wanted to meet him down there.

Jaime tried to remember the last time he'd rode through Flea Bottom and Little Essos. It had to have been when they sailed for Storm's End. Before Joffrey was conceived. Jaime wasn't sure if the city had changed, or if it was just the night. The streets were dark, cold and damp. Standing oil lanterns lit every corner but they didn't chase away the shadows in between. People were out on every street. Women smoked cigarettes, leaning outside tavern doors. Men squatted over dice, smoking and cursing. Someone vomited into the street. Jaime rode on.

“So are we getting a bowl of brown?” Jaime quipped when he met his brother in front of a side-leaning brick building. Men were loitering out front, smoking cigarettes and muttering to each other. Jaime feared what stains his white cape would have upon leaving this place.

Tyrion dropped down out of his carriage and instructed his guards to remain outside the shop. “I'm surprised you didn't get held up for your horse.” Tyrion snarked back and led Jaime up the stone porch to the door. “Willow's specialty is seafood.”

He pushed the door open to a square room filled with a hodge-podge of tables and chairs. Nothing matched; every bit of furniture looked like it had been stolen from different Lord's homes a decade ago. The place was not rowdy, as Jaime expected. It was quiet. The diners came in all variety; men, women and children. It smelled good; baked fish, butter, spice and warm pie.

A server directed them to a set of fraying easy chairs and a low table by the fire. Apparently, Tyrion had the spot reserved. Jaime prayed that none of the previous diners carried fleas.

“So what are Willow's specialties?” Jaime asked, picking up a sheet of paper he assumed was a menu. There were no words on it. Just pictures. “How am I supposed to know what to get?” Jaime asked his brother.

“Just let me order.” Tyrion reassured. A woman came over and Tyrion ordered white wines and bowls of the seafood chowder for them.

As they waited for their food Tyrion untied his heavy cloak and arranged himself comfortably in his chair. He'd dressed in an embroidered gold and black vest, and black breeches. “So Jaime, how are you?” He started, conversationally.

Jaime looked at his brother's mismatched, unblinking eyes, wanting to duck under his brother's gaze. “I'm as good usual.” He grumbled.

Tyrion's eyebrows raised. “Merely good? You're the first Kingsguard to lead his own private army, and you're merely _good_..?”

“Yes, because father is making me.” Jaime groused, squeezing his fists. His right arm tingled all day, and Jaime was hoping to distract himself from it.

Tyrion laughed, hearty and full. It grated on Jaime's nerves. “You need to tell me what you did to anger father.”

“Besides, attempt to salvage what's left of my vows?” Jaime complained. “Nothing new.”

A server came with their glasses of wine. It was biting and fruity, unlike the smooth sweet of Arbour Gold Jaime was used to. He couldn't stop sipping it.

Tyrion patted his brother's gloved hand. “My dear boy, everything is new. Everything! The world is opening up to us both.”

“I'm bursting with thrill at the chance of training father's band of unwashed street boys.”

“Jaime, they're _your_ band of unwashed street boys.”

Jaime looked at his brother over his wine, wide-eyed, realizing.

“You have your own private army of two thousand men, and father is _gone_. Don't you think it might be nice to take a break from your lifelong service to the king?”

"Didn't consider that." Jaime thought of Cersei. In a way, she was his respite from his duties.

Tyrion pinched the bridge of his nose. “I hope you have some plans for these unwashed potentials?”

Jaime rolled his eyes, more at himself. “They're not all unwashed. A good number of them are second and third sons of lesser lords.”

“Anyone we know?” Tyrion asked.

Jaime shook his head. “Stormlanders, I think. And one bastard had a voucher. Waters was his name.”

Tyrion shrugged. “No matter where they're from, you can make these men do what you want.” A smile, dripping with mischief lit Tyrion's face. “You could have them build my damned public ravenry.”

Jaime was grateful to change the subject. Every once in a while, Tyrion griped about their father rejecting his idea of a public ravenry in a small council meeting. Tyrion argued that the Lord of Communication should encourage people to _communicate_. “Are you really going to get it built?” asked Jaime.

Tyrion's black eye gleamed. “That and more brother. What's father going to do? Knock it down? Close down the radio?” Tyrion reasoned.

Jaime considered it. It sounded like a really good idea. “What maesters are you going to rope into this? Not Pycelle.”

Tyrion shook his head. “Not Pycelle, the worm. I'm working with Frenken.”

Their food came and they ate in comfortable silence. The stew was a delight; Jaime could not stop his sigh as he swallowed a large scallop.

Even with a mouth full, Jaime could feel the trickery rolling off his little brother. Though if Tyrion could defy what father said.. “I did have some plans for the men.” Jaime told Tyrion.

Tyrion wiped his mouth with a cloth napkin, eyes crinkling joyfully. “There we are. Let's hear it.”

“My men will know how to swing a sword when I'm done with them.”

“You do love your blade-work.” Tyrion said in equal mocking and fondness.

Jaime rolled his eyes. “I'm going to teach them rules. I won't have my men acting foolish just because they have a lion badge on their chest.”

“We wouldn't want more Gregor Cleganes running about.” Tyrion agreed, cringing playfully. “Or men like the Gold Cloaks.”

“What have the Gold Cloaks done to you?” Jaime questioned, eyeing his brother.

“Don't be surprised when some goon of Littlefinger's comes knocking on your door.” Tyrion told his brother. “They tried to muscle their way into the radio tower when I first started. They didn't like the outcome of that stunt.”

Jaime remembered. Tyrion brought a tribe of mountain men to the city to keep the city guard away. He always wondered what happened to those wildlings, afterward. “So what new stunts will you pull with your radio show?” Jaime asked his brother. “Surely something that will twist father in knots.”

“I aim for his implosion from rage.” Tyrion countered. They laughed. “I plan to share all the delights and horrors of the city. Interview interesting people, showcase fine establishments.”

“Like here?” Jaime asked, eye sweeping around the cookhouse.

Tyrion patted his hand. “My poor, sheltered sibling.” Jaime scowled.

His excitement dampened. “I won't have father's men forever.” Jaime told his brother.

Tyrion looked at him unblinking, again. “ _Oh_ , but all the things you can do while they're yours.”

|> **The Black Mummers** <|

The next morning, Jaime looked himself over in the mirror, butterflies and dread swirling in his stomach. He wore white, weighted leather armour from the chin to the ankle. A lion roaring over a flaming sword was embroidered onto his chest in gold thread. Over his shoulder swayed his new half-cape; embroidered blood red silk, heavy as his new responsibility. His lush blonde hair was combed to the side, and he wore his golden gloves.

Jaime asked his friend Addam Marbrand to assist with the Brightroars and Addam happily accepted. They were supposed to meet in the center of the Dragonpit, to induct the first five hundered trainees. Jaime opened his door that dawn to Janos Slynt standing in front of it.

The Gold Cloak commander had the face of a frog and the body of a barrel. His head was bald, with only a few wisps of greying hair around his ears. He wore weighted, black leather armour and a golden half-cape over one shoulder. “Good morning to you, Ser Jaime.” Slynt greeted with a nod of his head.

“Same.” Jaime clipped, then brushed past the man, starting his way down the hall. The overhead lights reflected brightly on the white marble floors.

Janos stuttered as he caught stride with Jaime. “Ser I'm here to escort you to the training yard.”

Jaime stopped and regarded Slynt for a moment, remembering Tyrion's words. “And who commanded you to do that?” He asked the Gold Cloak commander.

Slynt stood his tallest and said, “On the orders of Lord Petyr Baelish, the City Watch is at your service.”

“How many other guards have been tasked to come with you?” Jaime asked Janos.

“I have two hundred of Kings Landing's finest with me now.” Slynt answered.

Jaime nodded. “That's good to know. Your men can go home now.” He started walking again and descended the stairs at the end of the hall.

Janos was right on his heels, stomping behind Jaime. “Ser I must fulfill my duty in assisting you.”

“And you'd be two hundred and one man too many. Go home, Lord. I have just enough to handle my recruits.”

“Ser I must insist-” Slynt objected.

“I insist you stop wasting your time and your breath.” Jaime said, rounding on Slynt at the final landing. “Take yourself and any Gold Cloaks that are waiting about and go.”

Janos left him stiffly, with a glare as final parting.

Jaime opened the double doors that led to the training yard at the center of the pit. It was very cold even with the sun shining down clearly on their heads. The first group of recruits stood lined up in neat rows of five hundred.

Addam and the Westermen he'd brought along were waiting at the front of the lines. Jaime greeted him.

“The men are all ready to go, though two voucher Lords did not come.” Addam informed him.

“So we have four hundred and ninety-eight interested trainees.” Jaime mused. Perhaps two gold dragons a week wasn't enough.

Jaime looked over the faces of the men lined up. Unimpressive. Farm boys in thin fabrics, sleepy looking gamblers, unassuming cut purses, and street vendors; all men who hadn't starved or been thrown in a dungeon yet. Jaime needed to let these men know what they were getting into.

“You have been accepted as the new recruits for the Brightroar Blades.” He started, making sure his voice carried all the way to the back of the lines. “If you succeed in your training, you will be elevated to the position of knights and you will ensure the protection of the realm.” The pit was entirely silent as Jaime watched the men for a reaction. There was nothing but the cold wind that ripped through them.

He continued. “You're being paid well to wear the Brightroar badge. But don't think that every single drop of gold you get won't be earned. I expect nothing but hard work and progress from you. The best performing officers will be given positions of leadership, a pay raise and...” He thought on it a moment. “Land of their own.” It wasn't a promise Tywin had made, but Jaime felt worthy men deserved it.

He walked down the line checking the crowd over, scanning their faces, their bodies and builds, seeing who might have the potential of being worth something. All eyes were on him; bright excited eyes, dull indifferent eyes, patient eyes and eyes shining with greed. But there was one set of eyes that caught Jaime's attention. There, in the second row, was a tall one. And his gaze burned Jaime with barely contained malice.

Jaime advanced toward him. The boy was big boned, long-legged and even though he was finely dressed, he was proportioned incorrectly in every conceivable way. From his long-booted feet that stuck out at odd directions, to the dusting of yellow peach fuzz at the top of his head. He had big hips and a thick waist, but his chest was weak. He was slouching. Even his face was odd; broad and freckly. Puffy, chapped lips, that were currently caught between his crooked teeth. As Jaime approached, the tall boy's face grew red, and redder with each step he took. By the time Jaime stood toe to toe with the young man, the hatred was gone from his eyes, replaced with open fear. If it was any other time, and if Jaime was in any other sort of mood, he would have just ignored the eyes. But the boy had been so utterly _insolent_ about it, Jaime couldn't let it go.

“What's your name, boy?” He asked the younger man who stood only an inch or two taller than him.

The blonde looked Jaime in his eyes. Jaime had to remind himself to breathe. All that the gods had cursed this tall boy with in looks, they blessed him multifold when they created his eyes. Blue. Clear and oceanic. With a wide band of dark blue around the iris and a sparkle of silver light from the cold sun. His long eyelashes fluttered when he failed to come up with a response.

“I asked you a question, _boy_.” Jaime snapped.

The boy made a sound, like he was just remembering his tongue was still in his mouth. “Brennan Waters, ser.” He finally said. Jaime almost laughed. The boy's voice cracked like his own before he grew hair around his cock. And then Jaime realized, this was the one. The voucher bastard.

“Waters.” Jaime drawled, remembering his name. He looked him sharply in his blue eyes. “I'm guessing you have a voucher because you're a Lord's bastard. Doesn't mean you can slip in and challenge your superiors.”

The boy's eyebrows pulled down into a frown. “My parents are dead, _Ser_.”

He said it so caustically, Jaime was taken aback for a moment. It felt akin to being called Kingslayer.

“And you're looking at me as though I was the cause of that.” Jaime sneered.

“I'm looking at all the men who are cold.” The boy said, shifting his eyes to the side before looking back at Jaime. As if to emphasize the boy's point, a frigid wind blew through all the men who were poorly dressed. A number of them shivered. This Brennan Waters did not.

It amused Jaime, that the boy made the same observation as him. But he couldn't allow a recruit to glare at him and criticize his treatment of his men in public. “And now you presume to speak for these men, though you haven't even proved yourself.”

The boy's face hardened. “I let my sword do the talking for me, Ser.”

Jaime laughed out loud, now thoroughly intrigued by this sassy, smooth-cheeked whelp. “Just so.” Jaime said, turning his back on the boy. “You can be the first to give these men demonstration.” He called to Addam and the other men, requesting two practice swords.

When he realized the bastard was not following him, he called over his shoulder, “Don't lag behind, _whelp_.”

The confused boy followed him, face raging red. Jaime said to the men, “Pay close attention, boys. This whelp's lesson will be what you experience every day while you're under my command.”

Addam handed Jaime the swords and the boy took his position ten feet away, facing Jaime. Jaime tossed the sword to the boy and charged before he could even get it up. But he did manage to raise it and blocked Jaime in the right angle at the right time. _The boy is strong_! Jaime thought as the metal clang jolted up his arms. His hand started tingling.

Jaime twisted around to deliver a side cut and the boy bounced it away. Then Jaime thrusted from the center. The boy circled around his sword and slapped Jaime's point to the ground. There were a few _oh's_ in the crowd. Jaime glared at him.

He flew at the whelp, raining blows on him from every angle. Spinning, slicing, harassing the boy with his blade. Brennan nearly blocked every one, but his footwork was a sloppy mess of random steps and reactions. Jaime would slow the boy down soon. The moment came; Jaime swatted the boy hard across the chest and he staggered back. It must have hurt, but Jaime seized the moment and chased the boy down. He delivered a kick to the boy's belly that sent him sprawling.

The towheaded whelp crashed onto his rump, rolled backwards and landed back on his feet with his sword up, eyes blazing, asking for more. Men cheered from the lines and even Jaime had to smirk for the boy's sake.

The whelp was watching him, breathing hard through flared nostrils. Jaime decided to taunt him. “Is your voucher making you too tired to dance?”

The boy exhaled loudly, turned his body to the side and held his sword high in front of him. Jaime's breath picked up. _The Bravos stance_. He'd only seen performers fight in the style. Jaime had always wanted to test his blade against it.

This time the boy was the one to strike first. The way the whelp attacked now was different; quick, snapping strikes and feet that shifted instantly. Brennan was all jabs and pokes, prods and quick cuts. Jaime caught a few, but his hand numbed with the last strike. The boy spied the weakness slammed his blade into Jaime's ribs, forcing him to step back in retreat. Jaime panted and watched the whelp for any signs of hurt or disadvantage, but Brennan stood tall and healthy. He had to end this lesson quickly now.

Jaime changed tactics. He held his sword in front of him and waited for the boy to strike again. Brennan glared at him, but the look became more and more unsure as the seconds rolled by. Jaime didn't move. Brennan took the bait. His sword flashed out. Jaime twisted past the blade, caught Brennan's arm and tangled his foot behind Brennan's knee. He flattened his blade against Brennan's throat. The sword tumbled from the whelp's fingers. He tried to buck Jaime away from him, but Jaime rooted around him.

Jaime grinned in Brennan's face. “Goodnight.” He said cheerfully, then he headbutted the boy and Brennan collapsed.

Brennan coughed and sat up on the ground. Jaime held his sword point at the boy's neck with his left hand. Brennan's eyes darkened like a furious summer storm. “Yield.” Jaime demanded. The boy continued to glare. “Say it, _whelp_.” Jaime's voice roared.

The boy's face blistered red, freckles glowing. “I yield.” His voice was a frustrated light tenor. Jaime stepped away from him and the boy clambered to his feet.

As he made his way back to the line, many of the men were clapping, jostling to get a better look.

“A very fine attempt.” Jaime drawled, his voice carrying over the crowd. “I expect you lot to put in the exact same amount of effort as the whelp did. Anything less is failure.”

After a few more words the men were marched out the training yard to get their rooms assigned. Jaime sighed. Three more sessions to go. Jaime smirked at Addam. "If the recruits have even half the fire of that whelp, the Blades might not be such a waste of time." Jaime mentioned to his men's agreement.


	7. He Won't Miss It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy this chapter! It's one of my favs! If you enjoy this story please share it!
> 
>  **Daenerys entices a new ally.** Grey Worm nudged her. “Here comes the other king.” Jon was indeed walking toward them. Daenerys' stomach squirmed. Her toes curled in her boots.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween everyone! Big shout outs to [Erika](https://mobile.twitter.com/erikah3ck?fbclid=IwAR3fJuimknTPQVq8X9t5BXMEE6eeycG-IGLmB_x2SDVxs8iFrbjvhLrMoFo), because she's awesome. Huge thanks to [Petticoat OEM](https://petticoatoem.com/) for the new cover releasing soon! Let's go!

**Daenerys**

Daenerys loved Sunspear. It was her favourite Essos city in Westeros. The air always felt open, bizarre and daring. Dorne welcomed Easterners with open arms. Everyone who sailed to Westeros wanted to live in Dorne. Dany and her family tried to live in Dorne. But they were attacked one night. Brienne saved them, but they had to leave the city before they were caught.  
  
The night was cold and windy on the beach. Dany could see the lights of Sunspear, though they were many miles away. Five hundred of Black Balaq's archers and two thousand horsemen met them on a coast far away from villages or travellers. The tents were dotted around the shore like freckles. Most were cloth and pole setups of sturdy material. Grey Worm and Missandei staked their modest tents near Viserys' large, purple pavillion, the size of a small inn.  
  
The Golden Company's large golden war tent was not much better, or inconspicuous. There were about thirty of them; all the company generals and a few of their attendants. They stood yawning and leaning around a grand table with a map pinned down with daggers.  
  
Daenerys stood next to Viserys at the head of the table. Missandei and Grey Worm stood behind them. Illyrio was back on his island, making preparations; as Daenerys overheard him telling Viserys.  
  
“Tomorrow, we meet with Xaro Xhoan Daxos of Qarth, near Ghost Hill.” Viserys told the group. Muttering broke out immediately amongst the men.

“The men want to know, why not the Martell's?” Harry Strickland muttered to Viserys from the left.  
  
“Xaro Xhoan Daxos is not a local man. He's wealthy, but he's not of this land.” Gorys Edoryen said, swirling a cup of wine. Dany thought he made a good point.  
  
Viserys' eyes snapped to the red haired man. “After the incident with my brother and Lyanna Stark, approaching the Martell's could prove challenging. They may not be pleased to be involved with my family again.”  
  
Daenerys saw Arthur Dayne turn to Jon Sand, and whisper something in his ear.  
  
“Most likely, they will ignore the conflict entirely.” Lysono Maar said, draped in purple silk and white fur. “Prince Doran is smart enough to choose the winning side.”  
  
“Xaro Xhoan Daxos is wealthy and influential. A good friend of Illyrio's! His support would be essential.” Viserys stressed.  
  
So it was decided. They'd ride for Xaro's palace in the morning. After, Daenerys waited a while for Viserys to join her in their tent. He didn't come till dawn.  
  
|> **The Black Mummer's** <|  
  
“King Viserys wanted you to wear the gown!” Doreah cried to Daenerys the next morning. The gown was draped over her forearm. Thin silk, lined with lace, blue as a spring afternoon sky.  
  
The moment she'd seen the little dress and jewels on her bed, she went for her clothes chest. “It's too cold to wear out. And the colour is wrong for the season.” Daenerys told Doreah as she pulled her wool and fur cloak around her shoulders. She wore thick, burnt leather fur lined breeches and a plain heavy woolen tunic.  
  
Doreah shuffled her feet fretfully. “But your brother-the King! He commanded..” She whimpered. Daenerys saw Doreah look at her pleadingly. She wore a fine, yellow, silk gown, and a cloak so thin it could have been a bedrobe.  
  
Daenerys promised she wouldn't allow the girl to be punished.  
  
“Daenerys!” Viserys called, entering the tent. He crossed to where she and Doreah stood, anger creeping into his features.  
  
“You need to change.” He said, looking between Doreah and Dany.  
  
“I'm comfortable as I am.” Daenerys protested.  
  
“Comfortable dressed as a common street rat! You're a princess, Dany. Xaro doesn't want to meet you in rags.”  
  
Her clothes were the finest she'd ever owned; paid for by the gold they'd taken from the Lannisters. Viserys wore an expertly crafted, black leather tunic, with red silk sleeves. A red dragon was embroidered into the front of his vest, studded with bright red rubies.  
  
“These clothes keep me warm.” Daenerys argued. She slid sly eyes to her brother. “And if I recall, they kept _you_ warm just a few weeks ago.”  
  
Viserys' eyes widened in fury. He turned to Doreah. “Leave us.” He barked. She limped away, still carrying the gown with her.  
  
“You'll wear that Qartheen gown, or you'll stay here and wait for me to spill my seed in you!” Viserys threatened, towering over her.  
  
The space around them shrank, but Daenerys did not. She knew she was important for this meeting. “Two dragons are more impressive than one.”  
  
Viserys' face twisted in thought, warring with his anger. He took a deep breath and stepped away from her. “We don't have time to waste.” He eyed Dany up and down, still displeased. “Finish getting ready and meet me at the horses.”  
  
The sky was lit grey, the wind was cold and aggressive. They rode in a group of seven; Daenerys, her brothers, Missandei, Harry Strickland, Gorys Edoryen, and Lysono Maar.  
  
Xaro Xhoan Daxos' palace was within a cliff village off a beach between Sunspear and Ghost Hill. Their group passed through the gates of the small worker village. Guards bearing the red sunburst and yellow spear of the Martell's were stationed at the entrance. The town was very modest; wood and straw houses and dirt roads. Every few buildings, Daenerys noted guards milling about the town. Xaro's villa stood sprawling at the apex of the cliff.  
  
The palace was larger than the village itself. An atrium, with an open marble porch that wrapped around a beautifully maintained courtyard. Servant men relieved them of their horses when they dismounted at the entrance. Two Unsullied, clad in only a cloth, spear, shield and collar opened the immense door and welcomed them inside. More Unsullied guarded inside the door.  
  
Xaro's entry hall opened to the atrium. A tinted skylight centered the high ceilings, supported by tall stone columns. Below it, lay a marble mosaic pool that their entire party could swim in. A sphinx sculpture with a split body of a man and a woman stood in the middle of the pool. It's eyes; stones of gleaming black onyx.

Xaro stood on the other side of the pool looking like a prized, pet peacock. He wore a beaded, turquoise, damask longcoat with silk wings attached at the underarms. His trousers were fine magenta suede. “Everything you see here is yours, you only need ask for it, my King.” Xaro greeted them in lusty Valyrian. He waved his arms and servants rushed around the pool to attend them.

Daenerys realized they were slaves, as they took their cloaks. All of them were men; attired in collars and satin pantsuits, with their toned bellies exposed. Dany tried to look the man serving her in the eye. He winked.  
  
“We're honoured that you would host us.” Said Viserys, handing away his riding gloves. He gestured to Harry. “This is my top general, Harry Strickland of the Golden Company.” He placed a hand between Dany's shoulder blades; she tensed at his touch. “And this is my wife, Daenerys Targaryen.”  
  


“My pleasure.” Xaro swept around the pool to them and bowed. His nose was pierced, two sparkling stones in his left nostril, and one in his right. He eyed them up, his eyes lingering on Grey Worm. “ _My pleasure_.”  
  
Xaro led them to his private wing; a round tower connected at the back of his villa. They were treated to a late breakfast, cooked in front of them, in his personal dining hall. Xaro was all flattery and sweetness, complimenting Viserys on everything from his dress to his wisdom. Daenerys felt like he was asking for something beneath his words.  
  
He led them up one floor to his solar. The room was a plush, round chamber with wide windows that overlooked the beach, down below the cliff. Daenerys, Missandei and the others explored the room as Xaro's slaves pulled couches and chairs into the meeting circle.

A staircase with a bookshelf built into the side, curled up to the second floor. On the other side of the staircase, opposite the windows was a wide, stone fireplace. Brienne would say Dany had _the eye_ right now. Along the mantel sat a chest surrounded by small books, a silver mirror, gold statuettes, dry sweet-smelling flowers and an actual photograph of a woman with her breasts bare. Inside the chest were three dragon's eggs. The black one caught her eye immediately; with red ripples and spirals when the firelight flickered. A green one, with a pattern of green and bronze scales. On the right, a creamy white egg with bold streaks of gold cracked into its stone surface. Daenerys ran her finger along the shell of the black, swiping away a line of dust. She moved on before Missandei grew impatient.  
  
Xaro settled himself in a cushioned easy chair at the head of the circle. His slaves lit a cigarette for him. Viserys took the seat to Xaro's right. Dany sat beside her brother, in front of the window with the waves.  
  
“So tell me. How can I support you, my king?” Xaro gushed, blowing a delicate cloud of smoke.  
  
Viserys accepted the wine from Xaro's only female slave. “Illyrio said we'd be of a similar mind. We'll need your best ships and capable fighting men to get this done quickly.”  
  
Daenerys wanted to run a hand over her face. Xaro's village was filled with simple workers and Martell guards. And he only had Unsullied to guard his palace.  
  
Xaro laughed a heavenly, breathy gasp. “I'm needing men myself, King of dragons.”  
  
“What did you have in mind, when you said we could work together?” Harry Strickland asked from his seat in front of the bookshelf.  
  
Xaro crossed one long leg over the other, and lounged back decadently in his chair. “The trade on these beaches has given me the wealth of a thousand kings.” He looked away ruefully. “And yet, I have no one to share this fortune with. I always need extra hands to grow my trade, yet the Martell's forbid working papers.”  
  
Now, Daenerys understood. Most sponsors in Westeros were wealthy gentlemen from the East. They 'took responsibility' for traveller's work service and were supposed to release them after a few years; as citizens of Westeros. Most sponsors did not. In Dorne, working papers were illegal.

Viserys laughed pleasantly. “Is that all? Sponsorship is yours. I'll direct all ships to you.” He rubbed his hands together and asked. “How many men can you give to our cause?”  
  
Xaro gave a languid shrug and sighed. “I could get you men now, and it would benefit myself. Ships carry over new refugees from the East all the time. And they ignore _poor_ Xaro! I have special ships waiting in the sea that can guide them here, to their new sponsor.” He finished smoothly and stubbed out his cigarette in a shiny dish.  
  
Daenerys nearly laughed, pinching her lips together. She could feel Missandei's confused eyes on her. Xaro wanted to use his pirates to steal ships full of people, with Viserys' blessing. A chaotic strategy that would hurt their enemies, with untold suffering and consequences.  
  
“You're free to take all the ships you want. We'll be taking castles ourselves within the week. Together, we'll conquer land and seas.” Viserys assured.  
  
“You fill me with hope, excellent King. Yet a barrier restricts what we desire.”  
  
Daenerys could see Viserys' jaw clench in impatience. “What barrier?” He asked in a measured tone.  
  
“The selfish Martell's have placed guards around my village. They inspect every ship that comes to my port.”  
  
“It must be maddening!” Daenerys commiserated, a wry smile on her lips.  
  
“Just so, just so!” Xaro agreed, taking a great gulp of wine. “My King, I beg of you. Help me remove these thieves from my city. I'll have fighting men meet you on the next coast up North.”  
  
Viserys scowled, thinking. “There aren't many guards here. The village could be secured easily. But I'd be making enemies of the Martell's in return.”

“Remember, King. My docks burst with trade. I could even bring over another company from the East.” Xaro enticed, silky smooth. “I will need a few of your men to keep the city secured. But it will be yours!”

Pretty words, with swords underneath.

“That kind of work would have to be discreet, in Martell lands.” Gorys Edoryen contested.

Viserys shook his head, slowly. “Xaro, Xaro. I thought we were of a similar mind. Your support was supposed to aide in my conquest. Not complicate it.”  
  
Xaro lowered his chin and a single delicate tear rolled down his cheek. “How could a King so gracious, break my heart so cruelly?” He fretted.  
  
“Break your heart? Never that.” said Viserys. “Because I won't be leaving here without what I asked for.” His eyes were hard as flint.

All flattering pretense dropped from Xaro then. “I'm a trader, King. I'd rather talk about gifts that will promote us both. Rather than my swords, who would come at first notice.”

“First notice may prove too late when the Golden Company comes for you.” Viserys warned simply.  
  
Everyone sat up straighter. Xaro's jeweled nostrils flared. He uncrossed his legs and sat erect, his eyes filling with fury.  
  
“I have treasures to sell!” Daenerys sang brightly, raising her hand. She took a sip of wine and leaned toward Xaro as though they were companions. “Everything you could think of; diamonds, jade, spices, silks! I even have a Qartheen gown that would please you greatly, Xaro.”  
  
Some of the chill left Xaro's face. “Most radiant Queen! It's good to see a dragon who knows how to settle a _proper_ deal.” He narrowed his eyes at Viserys. Xaro stood up and swept his winged arm to beckon Daenerys. “Join me for a walk, sweet Queen. So we may discuss this trade you wish for.”  
  
|< **x** >|  
  
They rode back to camp from Xaro's village at a leisurely pace. The pace of victory. Xaro's seneschal travelled with them, along with some attending slaves. Everyone glanced an eye at Daenerys as they rode. Viserys glowered at her. Harry Strickland offered her a smile. When they were spaced out enough, Missandei and Grey Worm matched their horses with her's.  
  
“Share your thoughts.” Missandei mumbled to her, grinning archly.  
  
Daenerys shook her head, lips curling. “Later.” She promised them.  
  
It took hours for Xaro's seneschal to go through Dany's things and account their worth. Daenerys was sure Viserys soured any chance of Xaro giving them a discount. His seneschal priced her perfumes at exactly used cost.  
  
Viserys chose to stay away from their dealing. He commanded Doreah to attend him the minute he was in radius of their tent. Daenerys knew her brother wouldn't mind if she offered Xaro a few of his extra things. She gave the seneschal some brooches, a vest, and a ridiculous forearm bracelet that looked bulky around Viserys' thin wrist.  
  
When it was done, the only possessions Dany had left to her, were the clothes she'd bought with the gold she took from Tywin Lannister, her book collection, her cooking pots and a few other useful, odds and ends. The value of all the treasures she sold was worth four hundred ninety-two thousand gold dragons.  
  
Daenerys entered the Golden Company war tent that night with Grey Worm and Missandei. Viserys entered from the other side, late, with Doreah on his heels. “The merchant prince Xaro Xhoan Daxos gives us his support!” He bellowed. The other generals cheered.  
  
“They should know it was you, sister.” Grey Worm whispered to Daenerys. In a move that was unlike him, Grey Worm spoke up. “Our Queen convinced Xaro to give our cause half a million in gold!”  
  
Everyone around the tent stared at her in stunned silence for a long moment. Viserys' stormy glare locked onto Dany from across the tent. The young, black-haired man beside Jon Sand was the first to toast her. “I'll raise my cup to that!” He cheered and whistled. All the men joined in.  
  
“Imagine all the weapons we can buy! Xaro _believes_ in our cause!” Viserys said playing it up.  
  
The good wine was poured into everyone's best goblet. A man started playing a fiddle. The voices and music grew with each sip. Viserys still had not come to address Daenerys, rather, he drank and laughed with Harry Strickland, Gorys, and Lysono Maar. Doreah stayed at his side, refilling his cup.

Missandei sauntered over with her second full cup. “That'd better be watered!” Dany warned, making a swipe for her sister's wine.  
  
Missandei danced away, cackling.  
  
Daenerys gave her a long suffering head-shake and drank deep.  
  
Grey Worm nudged her. “Here comes the other king.”  
  
Jon Sand was indeed walking toward them. Daenerys' stomach squirmed. Her toes curled in her boots. He wore a buckled, black leather tunic so tailor-made, she could see the shape of his muscles. There were four golden arm bands over the sleeve of his left arm. He looked more masculine with his neatly trimmed stubble. And his hair was down; dark tresses flowing in waves to his shoulders. Behind him were his friends; the young, handsome black-haired one who toasted her, and a man with sandy brown skin and sky blue eyes.  
  
“My men; Satin and Daemon Sand.” Jon introduced, with a big grin that made Dany's chest tighten.  
  
“Good meeting you.” Daenerys said, extending a hand to each of them to grip forearms in respect. She gestured to her people. “My siblings, Missandei and Grey Worm.” Jon returned the courtesy.  
  
Satin addressed Missandei and Grey Worm. “So where are you from? I'd guess the Summer Isles.”  
  
“You'd be wrong!” Missandei teased back.  
  
“I'm from the Summer Isles.” Grey Worm confirmed.  
  
“He was partially right.” Daemon joined in. They moved away, talking about origins, giving Daenerys and Jon space to talk.  
  
“We wanted to congratulate you.” Jon told her.  
  
Warmth spread in her cheeks as she thanked him.  
  
“So,” Jon leaned in, murmuring. “Xaro is your new benefactor?”  
  
Dany's lashes fluttered at him. It was the drink. “I only sold Xaro a few trinkets.”

“Only!” Jon smiled. Then he crossed his arms and eyed her playfully. “Something tells me you were more mesmerizing than that.”

Daenerys shrugged. “He has exquisite taste. I had some fancy things I didn't need.”  
  
“I hope you didn't sell anything you'll miss and regret later.” Jon joked.  
  
Dany could barely keep the wickedness out of the smile she gave him. “Oh. I didn't miss a thing.”


	8. But I Will Miss You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoy this chapter! I feel like it's a part 2 to chapter 7. 
> 
> **_Jon enlists the help of a prince._** In the throne sat a man leaning casually to the side, with one long leg crossed gracefully over the armrest. “Ser Arthur Dayne. I never imagined I'd lay eyes on you again.” The prince said, words dripping with amusement.
> 
> Jon's Theme  
> [Mood: Kojey Radical, Mahalia, Swindle - Water](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J_lY8z2l_8E)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo! This chapter was a struggle to write. I'm going to keep posting on Mondays, but my schedule has been changing a lot so it won't be every Monday!
> 
> Shout outs to [Erika](https://mobile.twitter.com/erikah3ck?fbclid=IwAR3fJuimknTPQVq8X9t5BXMEE6eeycG-IGLmB_x2SDVxs8iFrbjvhLrMoFo), always, for guiding my words. And shouts to [Petticoat OEM](https://petticoatoem.com/) for your brilliant creativity.

**Jon**  
  
They would leave tomorrow. Jon's things were all packed. He lounged on his cot in his warm tent, talking with his brothers. Satin always took the longest to get his things together.  
  
“If I don't sleep in a real bed soon people will scream when they see me!” Satin complained.  
  
“Are you sure they're not afraid of your breath?” Daemon Sand teased, wrinkling his nose. He sat upon a chest, sharpening his dagger. “Get ready, already!”  
  
Satin stuck his tongue out at Daemon.  
  
Jon chewed his mint leaves, cleaning his teeth. “Daemon, You act like we're rushing somewhere.”  
  
“Yeah.” Daemon nodded, standing up. He slashed the air with his dagger. “Jon, there is no way your father would let us leave without making a connection.”  
  
For a moment, Jon thought it was the Dornish blood that made Daemon so perceptive. “Who do you think we're going to meet?” He asked, resigned.  
  
“Don't know. Gotta be ready, though.” said Daemon. He tossed his dagger from hand to hand, then stabbed.  
  
“Smells like you're ready for a second bath!” Satin lashed, arms folded to his chest.  
  
Daemon stopped practicing and fluffed his hair mockingly. “My joke was better.”  
  
Jon laughed. Daemon had it.

His older brother stopped playing with his blade. “I dreamed you chopped off Viserys' head. His eyes were bright blue...” Daemon frowned, sadly.

Jon swallowed thickly.

“I'd chop off quite a few heads for a princess like Daenerys!” Satin purred, stroking his beard and batting his eyes.  
  
Jon quashed the unpleasant feeling in his belly, at Satin's words. He gave his brothers an annoyed look. “Collecting heads isn't her goal.” Very early that morning, Xaro Xhoan Daxos' men returned to their camp with chests full of gold. They had another small celebration in their pajamas. Jon swore every time he looked at Daenerys, she smiled back at him.  
  
Daemon asked. “I guess she doesn't share the same goal as her brother?”  
  
“I don't know what she wants.” Jon sighed, laying back on his bed. “Every time we talk, it feels like she's sharing half a secret with me.”  
  
Satin raised an eyebrow. “What exactly has she been telling you?”  
  
Jon blushed. He shrugged his shoulders. “I told you she's a strange one.”  
  
Both Satin and Daemon peered at Jon suspiciously.

|> **The Black Mummers** <|

  
  
Arthur Dayne announced himself outside their tent. He entered with three rolled maps under his arm.

“Good morning, men.” Dayne said, tossing his maps on Satin's luxurious travel cot. “Our adventure in Dorne is today.”

Satin and Daemon Sand turned to Arthur Dayne with interest, but Jon spoke. “Father, you should speak with me alone first.” He darted his eyes to his brothers and Daemon took the message.

“Let's leave our King to his business.” Daemon mumbled, hooking his arm with Satin's. Satin pouted as they exited the tent.  
  
“Where are we going, father?” Jon asked.  
  
His father unrolled his map. “We're going to the Martell's, son. I wanted your friends to stay and ready up.” He gave Jon an encouraging smile.  
  
Jon nodded his head, then his innards froze. “ _The Martell's father_?!” He bellowed.  
  
“They have no love for Lannisters! We are bringing them revenge for Elia and her children.” Dayne said in a rush to reassure him.  
  
“My mother _stole Elia's husband_! The Martell's want nothing to do with us.” Jon said, running a hand over his face.  
  
Dayne shook his head. “Jon, I know the Martell's. They'll know you're the true heir when they look upon you. And they'll want another Martell child with Targaryen blood!”  
  
The damn inside Jon broke. “Father, I'm not royalty! I'm a warrior!” There, he said it. “I'm fine fighting for the company. I would die for my brothers. And...” Daenerys' face flitted into his mind. “I might find my own woman someday.” Jon stood to his full height and said to his father, “Being Rhaegar and Lyanna's son was by chance.”  
  
Dayne took a deep breath when Jon finished, looked away and swept a hand through his silver hair. Jon waited for him.  
  
"You're worried if it's a blessing or madness, to war for your birthright." Dayne said to his son. "But there is power in the name Targaryen. And there is power in you. Winter is here, your mother told me. And you'll help many survive it."  
  
Jon's heart thudded against his ribcage. “Viserys has all the support, all the money, all the men behind him. Even if I wanted it, father, I'm nothing.”  
  
His father laid a hand on Jon's shoulder. Jon realized he was shaking. “Viserys will never let you live if he becomes King.” The lines in Dayne's face seemed deeper. Jon wondered when his father started to look so tired. “He'll kill me, Jon Connington, your brothers; anyone who supports you. And he'll use that same hatefulness to claim the continent. We _need_ the Martell's.”  
  
Anger surged hot and roaring through Jon like a comet. He would never fight for Viserys' claim as a Targaryen, even if his identity was still secret. “I'll never let that lizard touch us.” Jon snarled.  
  
Dayne nodded his head. “Then you'll need loyal men behind you. The Golden Company will respect your strength when you come back with a formidable army."  
  
The anger left Jon so quickly, he felt light-headed. “Is that all it is to being a king? Fighting and chopping off other king's heads?”  
  
“Perhaps you'll be the warrior king who actually brings peace. But Viserys must be stopped first.” Dayne crossed his arms over his chest. “Him and his little queen are a dangerous pair.”  
  
A chill curled around Jon's spine as he remembered what she'd done at her wedding. “Daenerys is a good person.” She was. Terrifying, mystifying, and good.  
  
Dayne smirked at him. “Oh, you think so?” His father teased. Jon refused to blush.  
  
“Gather your men.” Dayne said, still smirking. “You might find the Martell's more helpful than you think.”  
  
Jon thought his father was mixing 'helpful' with 'unpredictable'.  
  
|< **x** >|  
  
Another grey, chilly day. Sunspear bustled with people of every shade, speaking Valyrian and Westerosi in every accent and dialect imaginable. The streets were paved in crumbling brick and the architecture melted Eastern style with the desert culture of Dorne. Arthur Dayne's plan was to simply ride up to the Martell's palace in Sunspear and announce that they were there.  
  
The guards at the gate looked down on their party of five, bewildered and annoyed.  
  
“I'm Ser Arthur Dayne of the Kingsguard. I need to speak with Prince Doran about the true King of Westeros.”  
  
Jon watched the guard's eyes dart to look at each other.  
  
“One moment.” The guard on the left said and slipped behind the castle's iron gate. Minutes passed as they waited atop their horses. Satin started whistling a song and Jon couldn't hold back his chuckle. The remaining guard shook his head at them.  
  
The first guard returned with four more. He beckoned them, “Come. The Prince is waiting for you.” Stunningly, the gates opened for them.  
  
As they rode nearer to the castle, the great golden dome of the Suntower gleamed into view. The palace was built of white sandstone blocks with large pillars patterned with gold stripes.  
  
They were brought to the throne room which was directly beneath the golden dome. Grey daylight shined in through skylights along the ceiling.  
  
The throne was at the other end of the massive hall; a wide seat atop a set of polished marble stairs. In the throne sat a man leaning casually to the side, with one long leg crossed gracefully over the armrest. “Ser Arthur Dayne. I never imagined I'd lay eyes on you again.” The prince said, words dripping with amusement.

He stood up in a move so fluid, Jon immediately felt defensive against a sellsword. The prince wore a burnished copper sandsilk shirt; a gold pendant chain dangled around his neck, just at the opening. He strode to them with long legs, clothed in striped green and black breeches. He was olive skinned, with a long nose. His black hair started from a widows peak and flowed down to his neck. And the prince's eyes were black and shiny like cold oil.  
  
Arthur Dayne stepped forward to the prince and bowed his head when they clasped forearms. “Prince Oberyn. I have important news to share with you and prince Doran.”  
  
“Dayne,” Prince Oberyn drawled. “You're looking for quite some trouble.”  
  
“ 'Thought you looked for trouble too.” Jon's father said.  
  
Oberyn put his hands in his pants pockets. “I look for _justice_.” He said, eyeing their group. “Show me this prince.”  
  
Dayne nudged Jon forward. “Jon Sand has been my son for nineteen years. But now he emerges as Aemon Targaryen, son of Rhaegar and Lyanna.”  
  
Oberyn arched a dark, neat eyebrow at them. “What does this boy mean to me?” Oberyn exhaled, glaring at Dayne. He turned to Jon and said, “You live because my sister and her children were murdered for your father's mistakes.”  
  
Jon's face heated up. He gave his father a sidelong glance that screamed ' _I told you so_!'. “I was only just born. I come forward now to offer peace, not more hurt or trouble.”  
  


“We've all suffered at the usurper's hands. And they will get their due. Jon has grown into an elite warrior and a fair man. You only need to look at him to know that justice is yours.” Dayne promised.  
  
Oberyn did look at Jon. He started at the four golden arm rings at his biceps. Down legs that were shorter and wide from riding horses. They travelled to Jon's face; his eyes, grey as winter. Then he looked at Jon's hair. Black as a long night.  
  
The prince addressed Jon Connington, “So, JonCon. You failed fighting to crown Rhaegar. What sort of king is this Jon Sand?” Oberyn asked.  
  
Red-haired, red-bearded JonCon glared at Oberyn. “I saw Jon save his brother from an Unsullied spear when he was only nine years old. He fights alongside his people.” Jon Connington told him.  
  
“So? He's a good little brother.” Oberyn said, unimpressed. His lips curled devilishly. “ _I'm_ a good little brother.”

Jon asked Oberyn, “What do your people need? Your hatred for the Crown is no secret. They must be making things hard for you.”

Oberyn's black eyes narrowed to angry slits. “Tywin Lannister's blockade has made things difficult here in Dorne. We have no access to freshwater and it grows drier by the day in winter. Pirates plague our seas, stealing cargo and people.”

Jon's stomach turned unpleasantly, at that. “We have ships. We can deal with a pirate or two. But the only way you're getting water to your people is by shedding enemy blood.”

Oberyn suppressed a smirk. “Tywin Lannister must die then. But I don't think you'd come to me without a plan already in place.”

Arthur Dayne smiled knowingly. “We have an agent in King's Landing who's going to assassinate Tywin Lannister. You'll have to think about what else you want King Aemon to do for Dorne.”

Jon held his breath as he watched the prince. The Dornishman held his worth in his hands. “I think I'll support this King Jon. Let's see if you'll build a dynasty, or dig a grave.” Oberyn said, offering Jon his forearm.

Jon took it. “I'd be honoured if you dug along side me. Though we don't fight with shovels.”  
  
Prince Oberyn nodded his head. “Forty of my finest should be sufficient, I think.”  
  
“Forty men!” Jon Connington balked. “Respect, prince Oberyn; we're going to war.”  
  
Oberyn smiled, dark and predatory. “A _prince_ wars how he wishes.”  
  
|< **x** >|  
  
They returned to camp in the evening with forty fine Dornishmen, all on horseback; and one Prince Oberyn. Camp dwellers took one look at Jon's party and kept on with their business.  
  
“Not a very kingly reception!” Oberyn quipped.  
  
Not at all. Oberyn wanted his tent set up right in the middle of camp, equally away from Viserys' purple pavillion monster and the Golden Company command tent.  
  
It took time before Oberyn and his Dornishmen were settled. Jon and his brothers sat down to a dinner of chicken, thyme, rice and a vegetable that had gone mushy from stewing too long.  
  
The meeting was already underway when Jon and his people entered the tent.  
  
“Mistwood is the weakest. We'll start there and spread through the Stormlands.” Gorys Edoryen was explaining to Viserys, pointing out locations on the map.  
  
“Griffin's Roost would be a great addition without directly challenging the crown. You'd have to discuss it with Jon Connington... and Jon Sand” Harry Strickland said cautiously.  
  
Viserys gave Strickland an angry glare. “ _King_ Jon?” His lip curled.  
  
“I'm right here.” Jon announced, moving inside ahead of his men. His father stood on one side of him and prince Oberyn on the other.  
  
All eyes were drawn to them before Jon even needed to introduce his guest. He gestured to Oberyn and said, “My men, please welcome our brother, Prince Oberyn Martell of Dorne.”  
  
Oberyn smirked. “I'm interested in hearing more about how you'll secure the Stormlands for King Jon.”  
  
Viserys strode forward and offered Oberyn his hand. “Prince Oberyn. You honour us with your support. I'm _King_ Viserys Targaryen.” He glanced at Jon askance.  
  
Oberyn burst out laughing, looking between Jon and Viserys. “Just two kings? Where's the rest of you?!”  
  
Jon had never blushed so much at a meeting. As they finalized their plans for capturing the Stormlands, Jon searched for Daenerys' silver hair and shy smile. She'd skipped the meeting.  
  
Jon was relieved when it ended. He darted out of the tent like a bat on fire. He even avoided his brothers.  
  
He marched through the camp trying to find order and comfort in his mind. Tents and people flashed by, barely looking at him. Before he knew it, he'd wandered into the other side of the camp. Viserys' tent sat tall and high like a small castle.  
  
For a moment, Jon felt like he was trespassing; but he reminded himself he was a king. He kept walking.  
  
He thought about Dany. What she might be doing right now since she skipped out on the meeting. Women's giggles reached his ear. Jon turned. Grey Worm stood guard at a small white tent; squatting under a bright torch and stirring a steaming copper pot.  
  
“Do you need something?” Grey Worm looked up and asked. Jon hadn't realized he'd strayed closer.  
  
“I wanted to talk with Dany-with all of you!” Why did he say that?  
  
Women's whispers floated from the tent.  
  
Grey Worm stood and looked at Jon with dark, searching eyes. “What did you want to talk about?”  
  
Jon paused, feeling foolish. "My...my day." He stammered. “I wanted to tell you about my day.” He _had_ convinced Oberyn Martell to throw his support behind him.  
  
Grey Worm gave him a perplexed look before turning to the tent. “Daenerys! Jon Sand is here to tell you about his day.” He called.  
  
There was more laughter from inside. _Ugh_. Dany popped her head out and waved Jon forward. “You boys come in!” She welcomed.  
  
Jon went to the entrance while Grey Worm hung back. “Don't skip details.” Grey Worm smirked.  
  
The tent was modest. Strong linen cloth for rough weather. There was a plush cot, a warm brazier, and a small dresser with glowing candles.  
  
Daenerys and Missandei were dressed in black shirts and tight breeches.  
  
“So, Jon. You've found where we rest.” Daenerys said, clasping her hands together.  
  
“Missed you at the meeting.” Jon looked her over. She'd covered her hair with a black cloth. “What do you plan to do dressed up like that?”  
  
Missandei scowled at him. “None of your concern!”  
  
Dany gazed at him. “Thought you wanted to tell us about your day?” She questioned.  
  
He'd forgotten. “ _Right_!” Um. “Oberyn Martell has thrown his support behind me.”  
  
Dany's eyebrows raised. “You have the support of the Martell's? That's really impressive!” There wasn't a single drop of malice in her smile.  
  
His chest felt like it was swelling. He didn't want to tell her it was only Oberyn, and forty good men. He told her, “I'd like to introduce you to him.” He couldn't wait to see how they interacted.  
  
“You must tell me how you convinced them to join us. Their backing is so important.” Daenerys reached out and touched his wrist. Just a brush of fingers.  
  
Missandei rolled her eyes. “Ugh, Grey Worm save me!” She teased out to her brother.  
  
“It's a good story.” His muffled voice replied.

  
“Dany.” Missandei said. Her golden eyes grew serious. “We have to go, _now_.”  
  
Daenerys nodded.  
  
“Where are you going?” Jon asked, feeling breathless.  
  
Daenerys studied him. “My deal with Xaro isn't finished.” She told him with a delicious smile. “I'm getting the last of it tonight.”  
  
“Daenerys!” Missandei hissed scoldingly.  
  
_Oh. Wow_... Now he was understanding how they cooked up the crazy plan to rob Tywin Lannister.  
  
“Let me come too.” Jon offered.  
  
Both Missandei and Dany denied him. “Still don't know if we should trust you.” said Dany.  
  
“You know I've never told any one of those _things_ you showed me.” He said, stepping closer to her. Dany's eyes widened. Missandei's confused gaze wavered between them. “Won't Xaro raise the alarm?” Jon asked Dany.  
  
Daenerys and Missandei shared a look and laughed out loud. “He won't notice.” Dany said, her eyes glittering.  
  
Jon left her with that. Sleep did not come to him easily.  
  
|< **x** >|  
  
Xaro may not have noticed, but Viserys did. His shouts and curses could be heard all through the camp. No one went to intervene. Jon found himself wandering to the purple camp fifteen minutes later. Just in time to see Viserys storm off with a blonde, servant girl at his heels.  
  
No one gave Jon a second look. Viserys' tent was being guarded by big bellied Franklyn Flowers, and thin Laswell Peake. Jon found a back entrance to the pavillion, squeezed between the other tents.  
  
When Jon stepped inside he found Missandei and Dany facing away from him on a king-sized, four poster bed. Dany was weeping, her back bare. Missandei stroked soothing circles along her spine, whispering.  
  
Jon cleared his throat. “Good morning.”  
  
The women whirled around. Missandei's eyes were large and forbidding. Daenerys' face was unreadable.  
  
Dany stood up; took her time jerking her fur robe around her shoulders. She turned to him and beckoned him toward her. When he was close, she put her hand on his forearm and pointed to a dark corner of her tent. Jon couldn't even focus on how unusually warm Dany's skin was, because, hidden in plain sight, was an ornate chest and three dragon's eggs inside.


End file.
